MEDAL  OF  HONO 


liiliiii 


GENERAL  CHARLES 


"  IT  WAS  SHOULDER  TO  SHOULDER  THAT  DAY.     IT'S  SIDE  BY  SIDE  Now 

Page  in 


THE  MEDAL  OF 
HONOR 

A  Story  of  Peace  and  War 

BY 

GENERAL  CHARLES  KING 

AUTHOR  OF  "COMRADES    IN  ARMS,"  "A  KNIGHT  OF  COLUMBIA," 

"AN  APACHE  PRINCESS,"  "A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX," 

"THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

GEORGE  GIBBS 

"  ''   •'  '  •  :    :     AND 

E.  W.    DEMING 

NEW    YORK 
THE  H.  B.  CLAFLIN  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS'  AGENTS 
1905 


COPYRIGHT,  1904, 
BY 

THE  HOBART  COMPANY 

Published  March, 


CONTENTS 
PART    ONE 


PAGE 
1 


Prologue:     At  the  Point 

PART    Two 

THE    PATHS    OF    WAR 

CHAPTER    I. 

Tonto  Pass 21 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  Noble  Rescue 3^ 

CHAPTER  III. 

Only  Just  in  Time 49 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Night    Signals  from  the  Agency 59 

CHAPTER    V. 

As  the  Major  Told  It 74 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Soldier's  Threat 87 

CHAPTER    VII. 

The  Medal  of  Honor 100 

PART    THREE 

THE   PATHS   OF   PEACE 

CHAPTER  I. 

In  Classic  Shades.  .  117 


91S902 


CHAPTER  II.  PAG;: 

A  Cat  in  Strange  Garret 140 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  Clash  in  Classics 158 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Mischief  Afoot 178 

CHAPTER  V. 

' '  Stand  to  Your  Guns  !  " 188 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Strange  Shadows  by   Night 200 

CHAPTER   VII. 

The  Shot  from  the  Cedars 211 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  Rumble  of  Thunder 221 

CHAPTER     IX. 

A  Turn  in  the  Tide 235 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Major  Meets  His  Fate 249 

CHAPTER  XI. 

"  Dark's  the  Hour  Before  the  Dawn  " 264 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Night  of  Flame 273 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Confusion  Worse  Confounded 287 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Woman  at  the  Bottom 296 

CHAPTER    XV. 

As  Told  of  the   Major 307 

PART    FOUR 

Epilogue  :   At  the  Point 325 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"  IT  WAS  SHOULDER  TO  SHOULDER  THAT  DAY.     IT'S  SIDE  BY 
SIDE  Now"    .  Frontispiece 

"TOGETHER  HAD  THEY  RIDDEN  EVERYDAY"    .        .        .        .       9 

"CHARGING  ZIGZAG  UP  THE  SLOPE,  FANE  AND  DOLAN  IN  THE 

LEAD" •        •        •        •        •      3* 

"FANE  STAGGERED  INTO  VIEW,  BENDING  ALMOST  DOUBLE"        .      46 

"  FANE  WAS  BACK  IN  A  TWINKLING,  His  OWN  FACE  Now  WHITE 

WITH  FURY" •    *  66 

"  STIRRING,  SPIRITED  BATTLE  WITH  CRAZY  HORSE  AND  His  BANDS"  342 


PART  I 
PROLOGUE:  AT  THE  POINT 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR 


CHAPTER  I 

PROLOGUE:   AT  THE   POINT 

IT  was  nearly  time  for  parade.  The  drum  major  in 
his  tall  lynx-skin  shako  was  already  marshaling  the 
band  in  the  hollow  north  of  Trophy  Point,  prepara 
tory  to  the  march  over  to  camp.  The  sun  had  sunk 
behind  the  westward  heights,  but  was  still  glinting  from 
cornice  and  window  among  the  scattered  summer  home 
steads  across  the  Hudson  and  taking  a  last  peep  through 
the  rift  of  Washington's  Valley.  Even  the  snowy  tents 
of  the  battalion,  pitched  at  the  eastward  verge  of  the 
"  cavalry  plain,"  were  deep  in  shadow,  though  the  whis 
pering  crests  of  the  leafy  square  that  hemmed  the  little 
white  city,  as  well  as  the  dense  cluster  in  the  heart  of 
old  Fort  Clinton,  were  all  agleam  in  the  golden  light. 
The  pathway  from  the  south  porch  of  the  hotel,  leading 
straight  away  through  the  hedge  to  the  "  visitors'  tent," 
was  dotted  by  little  groups  of  men  and  women  sauntering 
campward  for  the  closing  ceremony  of  the  day,  yet  here, 
perched  on  the  piazzas  commanding  good  views  of  the 
broad  thoroughfare  from  the  south,  straight  as  a  die  from 
the  grim  "  old  Academic,"  and  the  curving  road  from  the 
west  skirting  the  northward  edge  of  the  plateau — here 

3 


4  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

along  .the  railing  l-n^rcd  little  bevies  of  bright-eyed, 
excited  gM.s,.  chattering  in  hushed  yet  eager  tones, 
dressed  in-  dainty  Summer  toilets,  ready  even  at  this  early 
hour  for  the  hop,  scheduled  to  begin,  temps  militaire,  at 
eight  o'clock,  and  to  close  abruptly  at  beat  of  drum,  one 
hundred  and  ten  minutes  thereafter.  They  counted  their 
pleasuring  almost  in  seconds,  a  generation  ago  at  the 
Point. 

It  was  high  time  these  fair  vedettes  should  be  at  their 
customary  seats  under  the  trees  behind  the  guard  tents, 
unless  prepared  to  see  them  occupied  by  aliens  from 
Cozzens'  and  "  the  Falls."  Cadet  beaux  by  the  dozen, 
but  lately  in  evidence,  had  scampered  to  join  their  com 
panies,  the  last  loiterers  just  skipping  down  the  steps 
after  laughing,  lingering  adieux — two  First  Classmen 
who,  being  merely  high  privates,  had  not  to  wind  them 
selves  into  their  sashes,  but  could  don  dress  hat,  belts 
and  gloves  in  twenty  seconds.  Something  it  must  be  of 
unusual  import  still  held  so  many  damsels  at  the  hotel 
when,  all  other  things  being  as  usual,  they  should  be 
among  the  spectators  at  camp.  "  What  can  have  hap 
pened?  "  "  She's  got  to  dress  for  the  hop!  "  "  He's  got 
to  inspect  his  company !  "  "  And  there  comes  the  band 
now !  "  These  fragmentary  excerpts  from  the  remarks 
that  flew  from  lip  to  lip  will  perhaps  furnish  the  clue 
to  the  situation.  "  It  was  five  when  they  rode  away,  and 
now  it's  nearly  seven !  And  there's  the  drum !  "  observed 
Miss  Felton,  wide-eyed  and  fluttering. 


PROLOGUE:   AT   THE    POINT  5 

"  And  here  they  come ! "  suddenly  announced  a  less 
imaginative  maiden,  drawing  instantly  an  eager  flock  to 
peer  in  the  direction  indicated  by  her  outstretched  hand. 
At  swift  canter,  through  the  grand  old  elms  at  Trophy 
Point,  the  riders  came.  At  swift  canter  they  emerged 
from  the  twilight  of  the  grove  and  the  screen  of  waiting 
carriages,  darting  into  view  with  a  little  cloud  of  dust 
like  the  tail  of  a  comet  following  in  their  wake.  Nearing 
the  hedge  they  gradually  reined  in  to  a  decorous  trot, 
then  to  a  walk  as  they  passed  beneath  the  battery  of 
searching  glances  along  the  railing.  "  I  declare,  every 
girl  at  the  Point  is  on  watch.  Look !  "  she  had  murmured 
as  they  neared  the  hedge,  and  he,  who  had  had  no  eyes  ex 
cept  for  her,  looked,  saw,  flushed  a  bit,  but  all  the  more 
determinedly  resumed  his  earnest  words.  He  only  tipped 
his  jaunty  forage-cap  impersonally  to  the  line  of  archly 
uplifted  eyebrows,  the  pretty,  questioning,  quizzical  faces 
she  had  greeted  with  laughing  ease  and  grace.  "  West 
Point  beauty  en  brochette,"  he  whispered  as  he  sprang 
from  his  horse,  turned  him  loose  to  be  gathered  in  by  the 
impassive  orderly  in  waiting,  and  stepped  quickly  to  her 
side  as  she  threw  her  knee  from  the  pommel  and  turned, 
lightly  touching  his  shoulders  as  she  swayed  forward  to 
meet  his  uplifted  hands.  Quick,  deft,  and  firm  he  swung 
her  to  the  foot  of  the  steps.  There,  one  instant,  her 
graceful  head  was  inclined  to  his  as  in  parting  he  mur 
mured  a  word  or  two.  There  was  a  rather  lingering 
handclasp,  as  all  the  girls,  or  almost  all,  on  the  south 


6  THE   MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

piazza  saw  at  the  time,  and  all  on  both  piazzas  heard  of 
it  before  parade  was  over.  Then,  barely  touching  the 
stirrup,  the  young  officer  in  the  natty  shell  jacket  worn 
at  the  time  by  our  cavalry  and  light  artillery  sprang 
into  saddle  again  and  shot  away  through  the  east  gate 
and  round  Fort  Clinton  out  of  sight.  The  girl  came 
quietly  up  the  steps,  her  stylish  riding  habit  lifted  clear 
of  the  slender  bottines,  nodded  again  gayly  to  the  groups 
along  the  rail,  but  instantly  joined  an  elderly,  richly 
dressed  woman  who  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  hall. 
"  Your  father  has  been  waiting  ever  since  the  Powell 
came,"  they  heard  her  say,  reproachfully,  and  together 
the  mother  and  daughter  passed  from  view. 

There  was  silence  a  moment,  then  up  spake  the  Dragon 
of  the  day  (Rest  her  soul,  she  is  long  since  gathered  to 
her  reward)  :  "  Well,  young  women,  if  Senator  Betts  ex 
pects  to  marry  Ethel  Hoyt  he'd  better  drop  Wall  Street 
and  dwell  at  West  Point.  Now  I'm  going  to  supper." 

They  had  been  almost  inseparable  since  her  coming  to 
the  Point,  ten  days  before.  It  was  her  first  visit.  She 
had  spent  much  of  the  four  previous  years  abroad;  had 
been  educated  in  music  and  the  languages  mainly  in 
Dresden  and  Paris.  Her  French  was  something  beauti 
ful,  said  the  girls,  though  they  were  not  so  sure  of  her 
figure;  the  average  woman  finding  it  easier,  somehow,  to 
concede  to  a  possible  rival  intellectual  rather  than  physi 
cal  charms. 

She    was    an    only    daughter    and,    in    a    way,    a 


PROLOGUE:   AT   THE    POINT  7 

family  fetich.  The  Dragon  could  tell  all  about  her,  acid 
did,  and  what  she  told  was  not  all  either  true  or  pleasant, 
but  none  the  less  interesting.  The  father  was  senior 
partner  in  the  well-known  and  largely  advertised  firm 
of  Hoyt,  Harriman  &  Company,  in  which  company  Homer 
Betts  of  the  Manhattan  Club,  State  senator  on  the  shady 
side  of  forty — and  politics — was  believed  to  be  a  sleeping 
partner  and  a  wakeful  power  behind  the  throne.  Well 
preserved  as  the  senator  looked,  he  had  "  gone  the  pace," 
said  clubmates,  and  had  a  shady  side  to  something  be 
sides  his  years  and  affiliations.  But  he  had  that  which 
covers  a  multitude  of  sins,  yet  is  not  charity.  He  had 
gone  to  Carlsbad  the  autumn  before,  and  later,  when 
restored  to  apparent  health,  to  Paris.  When  he  went  it 
was  said  that  his  liver  was  touched;  when  he  came  it 
was  only  his  heart.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  the 
ardor  of  his  admiration  for  Ethel  Hoyt,  just  through  with 
her  tutelage  and  ready  to  blossom  out  in  metropolitan 
society.  He  went  over  again  in  the  late  winter.  He 
came  home  with  them,  paterfamilias  being  too  busy  at 
his  desk,  in  the  spring.  He  had  encouraged  one  of  the 
sons,  her  brothers,  in  his  aspirations  to  the  heart  and 
hand  of  a  charming  girl  who  unhappily  preferred  an 
other,  and  the  young  man  went  to  China  and  a  minor 
consulate.  He  had  seconded  the  second  son,  who  longed 
to  be  a  soldier,  in  his  designs  on  West  Point,  where  he 
was  now,  at  twenty-two,  a  "turn  back"  to  the  Third 
Class,  though  claiming  Second  Class  privileges.  He  had 


8  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

sought,  said  Betts,  to  make  a  man  of  the  third  son,  whom 
he  had  succeeded  in  embroiling  with  his  father  to  the 
end  that  there  was  a  violent  row,  money  matters  at  the 
bottom,  winding  up  with  the  boy's  accusing  the  family 
friend  of  false  pretenses,  refusing  to  apologize  and  mend 
his  ways,  and  finally  quitting  the  parental  roof,  he  said, 
forever.  It  was  a  sore  topic.  Fred,  the  youth  in  question, 
had  a  warm  heart  as  well  as  a  hot  head,  and  the  mother 
brooded  over  the  sorrowful  breach  and  prayed  night  and 
day  for  his  safe  and  speedy  return.  Father  and  family 
friend  both  held  that  he  must  soon  weary  of  working 
for  a  livelihood,  they  knew  not  where.  Father  and  friend 
predicted  his  early  restoration  to  home  and  common 
sense,  but  he  neither  came  nor  communicated  with  them. 
It  was  telling  on  the  mother.  It  was  a  secret  torment  to 
the  father.  It  was  a  sorrow  to  sweet,  winsome  Ethel, 
now  entering  her  nineteenth  year,  though  she  had  seen 
her  brother  only  at  rare  intervals  during  the  four  years 
of  her  foreign  studies. 

Still  it  was  not  a  matter  she  cared  to  talk  of — the 
Dragon  did  that,  with  emendations  of  her  own — neither 
was  Miss  Hoyt  in  the  least  degree  confidential  or  com 
municative  on  the  subject  of  that  alleged  engagement  to 
Senator  Betts,  "  more  than  twice  her  years,"  etc.,  but  by 
no  means  an  easy  winner.  Baskets  of  delicious  fruit, 
boxes  of  Maillard's  dainties,  and  "stacks"  of  superb 
roses  came  to  her  by  almost  every  trip  of  the  Mary 
Powell,  but  only  once,  over  Sunday,  had  the  munificent 


PROLOGUE:   AT   THE   POINT  9 

donor  appeared  at  the  Point,  and  speedily  left,  supremely 
disgusted  with  a  hotel  that  sold  nothing  stronger  than 
small  beer,  and  had  not  a  room  with  a  bath.  Moreover, 
it  had  rained  all  day.  Miss  Hoyt  had  insisted  on  going 
to  morning  church  at  the  cadet  chapel,  also  to  afternoon 
service  (Brother  Jim  sang  in  the  choir — he  could  sing), 
and  during  the  dripping  evening  both  parlors  and  piazzas 
swarmed  with  cadets  until  tattoo,  and  were  infested  with 
stripling  officers  later.  Betts,  in  spite  of  the  wet,  spent 
the  dryest  night  of  his  life,  and  blasphemed  the  Point, 
the  Corps,  and  the  Army  until  all  was  blue.  For  a  suc 
cessful  wooer  he  looked  the  most  disgusted  of  men  as  he 
drove  away  in  the  early  'bus.  (Many  a  girl  was  up  to 
see  him  off,  but  not  the  one  either  he,  or  they,  expected). 
That  visit  really  revealed  nothing,  and  Miss  Hoyt  was 
as  unsatisfactory  as  the  visit.  Peaches,  pralines,  marrons 
glacees,  even  roses  she  would  share  with  some  of  the 
girls,  but  confidences  with  none.  At  the  end  of  the  tenth 
day  Cadet  Jim  Hoyt's  lovely  sister  was  still  a  mystery, 
a  Sphinx,  to  the  other  girls,  a  belle  among  her  brother's 
comrades,  and  an  object  of  the  undivided  attentions  of 
Lieutenant  Ronald  Fane,  — th  Cavalry,  instructor  in 
tactics  and  horsemanship,  a  soldier  of  good  repute,  and  a 
son  of  a  soldier,  but  without  a  surplus  cent  to  his  name. 
Together  had  they  danced  at  every  hop,  together  had 
they  ridden  every  day  since  the  Sunday  of  Betts's  unhappy 
visit.  She  had  sent  for  her  habit  and  horse  at  Fane's 
request,  and  now  this  exquisite  Friday  evening  they  had 


10  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

dared  to  come  home  late  for  parade,  so  to  speak,  keeping 
a  dozen  damsels  and  one  world-weary,  hungry  man  long 
waiting. 

Now,  every  woman  at  the  Point  could  see  that  Mr. 
Fane  was  deeply  smitten  with  Ethel  Hoyt.  Every  woman 
could  see  that  she  liked  him  well.  He  had  not  been  too 
assiduous  a  society  man  before  her  coming.  He  gave 
much  time  to  exercise.  He  had  a  wherry,  and  rowed  well 
for  a  soldier.  He  had  a  capital  horse,  and  spent  hours 
in  the  saddle.  He  and  a  classmate  of  the  Engineers  had 
taken  many  a  lesson  from  expert  hands  and  were  accus 
tomed  to  put  on  the  gloves  and  pummel  each  other  every 
morning  as  preliminary  to  bath  and  breakfast.  Fane 
did  not  read  much.  He  was  no  match  for  his  sparring 
partner  in  books  or  brains:  he  was  rather  a  light-weight 
in  science:  he  was,  moreover,  rather  below  the  standard 
in  stature,  but  he  was  quick  as  a  cat,  supple,  sinewy, 
trim  built,  and  soldierly,  a  wholesome  fellow  in  every 
sense,  clean  in  thought,  square  in  act  and  word,  and 
chiefly  reprehensible  in  being  poor  in  purse  and  all  too 
quick  in  temper.  Indeed,  it  was  because  of  this  frailty 
he  gave  so  much  time  to  the  gloves.  Thomas  Hughes 
and  other  shining  lights  of  his  schoolboy  days  had  said 
there  was  no  such  training  for  hand  and  eye,  wind  and 
temper,  and  life  with  Fane  had  much  of  self  training, 
self  watchfulness. 

And  this  exquisite  evening  in  mid- July  he  had  gal 
loped  back  to  camp ;  inspected,  while  still  in  riding  dress, 


TOGETHER  HAD  THEY  RIDDEN  EVERY  DAY 


PROLOGUE:  AT   THE   POINT  11 

the  tents  of  his  cadet  company;  hurried  though  his  tub 
and  toilet  with  heart  alive  with  a  thrilling  sense  of  hope 
and  exultation.  He  was  late,  and  but  few  people  were 
still  in  the  dining  room  when  he  reached  the  hotel,  then 
the  summer  mess  room  of  the  bachelor  officers.  All  of 
the  girls,  and  most  of  the  matrons,  apparently,  had 
already  gone  to  the  hop.  His  name  was  on  her  card  for 
the  seventh  and  twelfth  dances.  There  was  therefore 
ample  time.  He  had  glanced,  the  moment  he  entered, 
toward  the  seats  assigned  Mrs.  and  Miss  Hoyt — it  had 
become  an  unconscious  habit — but  they  were  vacant. 
He  had  passed  two  or  three  groups  of  middle-aged  and 
elderly  civilians,  prosperous  looking  men  of  affairs,  and 
exchanged  civil  greetings  with  a  few  among  their  num 
ber  whom  he  knew.  He  had  noted  that  as  one  of  the 
party  called  him  by  name  another  in  expansive  white 
waistcoat,  gray  whiskers  and  Tweeds,  turned  quickly  and 
looked  upon  him  with  obvious  curiosity  or  interest,  an 
unusual  symptom  among  these  money  magnates  of  the 
world. 

He  found  the  officers'  table  deserted  except  for  one 
man,  Furlong  of  the  Artillery,  who  nodded  with  the 
exaggerated  indifference  of  manner  acquired  as  the  result 
of  six  weeks'  study  in  England.  Fane  was  too  glad- 
hearted  to  be  captious,  and  so  spoke  cheerily,  it  being 
the  theory  in  the  Mess  that  the  better  Furlong  liked  a 
man  the  less  he  showed  it.  Presently  Furlong  arose, 
thrust  his  thumbs  beneath  the  skirts  of  the  single- 


12  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

breasted  frock,  the  uniform  of  the  time,  and  sauntered 
over. 

"  Dahncing  f night?  "  he  asked. 

Fane  nodded  over  his  iced  tea. 

"  Rahtha  wahm  f  'r  ex'cise,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Don't  mind  it,"  answered  the  trooper,  serenely  con 
tent. 

"Does  depend  a  lot  on  who's  the  girl,"  admitted  Mr. 
Furlong  tentatively. 

Fane  thought  so  too,  but  said  nothing  confirmatory. 

"  Miss — er — Hoyt,  I  understand,"  pursued  Furlong 
reflectively,  "  isn't  going." 

"  She  was,  when  I  left  her  an  hour  ago,"  and  now 
Fane,  with  interest,  was  studying  his  comrade's  face. 

"  Fact,  I  believe.  Papa's  up  from  town  in  a  pet  about 
something.  Heard  old  Scrooge  there  say  Western 
Union  and  others  had  gone  against  him  to  the  tune  of 
two  hundred  thousand.  Fancy  having  two  hundred 
thousand  to  lose !  " 

"  Still  I'm  unable  to  see  why  Miss  Hoyt  shouldn't  go 
to  the  hop,"  pursued  Fane,  intent  on  the  main  issue. 

"  Oh,  well,  as  to  that  I  understood  there  was  a  row  of 
some  kind.  Miss  Hoyt  seems  to  have  gone  to  her 
room." 

"  They  generally  do,  don't  they,  getting  ready  for  a 
hop?" 

Furlong  allowed  that  might  be  so,  but  had  other  facts 
in  reserve. 


PROLOGUE:  AT   THE   POINT  13 

"  I  ran  'cross  them  on  the  back  piazza — looked  like 
family  jar:  papa  in  temper;  daughter  in  tears."  Then, 
suddenly  dropping  the  airy  tone  he  so  much  affected, 
Furlong  came  down  to  himself,  and  from  that  positive 
plane  spoke  to  the  point.  "  And,  Fane,  old  fellow,  don't 
take  it  amiss.  You  know  I'm  your  friend.  I  think  it's 
about  you,  and  you  ought  to  know  it.  I  reckon  old  Betts 
has  been  blabbing." 

"  Why  should  he  ?  "  asked  Fane,  toying  with  a  tea 
spoon. 

"  Because  they  say  she's  engaged  to  him — that  big  cit 
that  was  here  Sunday — old  enough  to  be  her  father. 
It's  something  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before,  I  think." 

Fane  sat  looking  beyond  his  friend  and  informant,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  doorway  to  the  hall.  He  was  crum 
bling  some  bread  in  his  nervous  fingers.  He  seemed  wait 
ing  to  hear  more,  but  no  more  came.  His  face  had  lost 
much  of  the  radiance  that  was  there  when  he  entered. 
Presently,  without  looking  up,  he  said,  "  Sit  down  here  a 
moment,"  and  Furlong  obeyed.  "  Now,  tell  me — who 
told  you?" 

"  Mrs.  Hegeman,  to  begin  with." 

Fane  smiled.    "The  Dragon?    Yes,  she'd  be  apt  to." 

"  Three  or  four  girls,  and  Mrs.  Warren,"  pursued  Fur 
long. 

Fane  looked  up  quickly.  "  Did  Mrs.  Warren  say  she 
knew  it  to  be  so  ?  " 

Furlong  hesitated.     He  was  one  of  the  school  that 


14  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

taught  the  doctrine :  "  Don't  tell  all  you  know,  but  know 
all  you  tell."  He  believed  his  informant  told  truth,  and 
he  saw  that  Fane  did  not  believe.  Now,  Mrs.  Warren 
was  a  woman  in  whom  they  both  believed.  The  others 
might  have  spoken,  one  from  knowledge,  the  others  from 
— hearsay.  When  Mrs.  Warren  spoke  it  was  time  to 
listen.  Fane  was  slowly  rising.  A  middle-aged  civilian 
in  gray  Tweeds  and  sidewhiskers  and  expansive  white 
waistcoat  had  stopped  at  the  doorway  directly  opposite 
and  was  staring  straight  at  the  two  comrades  as  though 
half  minded  to  enter  and  address  them.  Fane's  face  was 
certainly  paling,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  hesi 
tating  stranger,  even  as  in  low  tone  he  queried,  "  Is 
this  Mr.  Hoyt?"  Furlong,  half  turning,  nodded.  The 
civilian,  seeing  himself  observed,  felt  the  awkwardness  of 
the  situation,  entered,  and  approached  them.  Fane  was 
on  his  feet  and  facing  him  as  he  reached  their  end  of 
the  table. 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  for  seeming  to  stare.  This 
is  Mr.  Fane,  I  believe.  My  name  is  Hoyt."  The  soldier 
bowed  solemnly,  as  soldiers  will.  "  My  wife  has  spoken 
of  you — frequently.  I — er — gathered  you  were  to  escort 
my  daughter  to-night  and  thought  you — she — had  gone." 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure,"  answered  Fane,  a  trifle 
stiffly.  "  Miss  Hoyt's  escort  is  Mr.  McNeil.  Yonder  he 
stands  in  the  hall,  sir." 

Mr.  McNeil,  a  cadet  captain,  indeed  appeared  zi  the 
moment,  an  open  note  in  his  hand,  a  look  of  perplexity 


PROLOGUE:   AT   THE    POINT  15 

and  not  of  pleasure  on  his  face.  A  sudden  impulse  took 
Fane  to  the  door.  "  Pardon  me,  Mr.  McNeil,"  said  he, 
"  I  have  just  heard  that  Miss  Hoyt  was  not  going  to  the 
hop " 

"  It's  what  she  says  here,  sir,"  answered  the  cadet, 
mechanically  standing  attention,  but  looking-  at  his  young 
superior  with  eyes  that  asked  for  sympathy.  "  She 

says "  and  here  he  read,  "  Make  my  apologies  to 

Mr.  Fane  and  your  friends  who  were  so  kind  as  to  place 
their  names  on  my  card.  Mother  is  far  from  well,  and  I 
cannot  leave  her." 

It  was  then  that  the  savoir  faire  of  the  Artillery  told. 
"  Fane,"  said  Furlong,  "  I  have  suggested  to  Mr.  Hoyt 
that  a  mint  julep  at  the  Mess  might  be  more  palatable 
than  Bass  up  here.  We  are  going — ahead."  So  saying 
he  led  his  willing  captive  to  the  south  door,  and  Fane 
was  presently  left  to  his  reflections.  Without  her  the 
dance  had  lost  its  attraction.  He  was  strangely  dis 
turbed  by  Furlong's  tidings.  The  hall  and  north  piazza. 
were  now  deserted.  Almost  everyone  had  gone  to  the 
hop.  The  soft  music  of  the  opening  waltz  came  floating 
through  the  still  air.  Darkness  had  settled  over  the 
scene.  The  grand  northward  reach  of  the  Hudson  lay 
far  beneath,  its  mirror  surface  already  sprinkled  with 
stars.  Hastily  he  penciled  a  few  words  on  a  card  and 
sent  it  by  a  bellboy  to  her  room,  then  went  forth  into 
the  night  and  stood  where  he  could  watch  her  windows, 
and  stood  there  long.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when 


16  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

suddenly  the  shade  was  drawn  and  a  slender  figure  for 
a  moment  appeared.  When  again  he  reached  the  north 
piazza  the  figure  was  there,  alone,  leaning  at  the  railing 
and  looking  out  over  the  silent  beauty  of  the  night.  She 
knew  his  step,  and  turned  to  meet  him. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  sympathy,"  she  frankly  began, 
extending  a  slender  hand  that  he  would  have  been  glad 
to  hold  in  his  had  she  not  almost  instantly  withdrawn  it. 
"  Mother  is  better,  but  was  and  is  miserable  and  upset. 
I  dare  say — you  have  heard  ?  "  and  her  eyes  sought  his 
face. 

"  Miss  Ethel,  I  have  heard  something  that "  he  had 

begun  impulsively,  but  hesitated.  Then  with  sudden 
resolution  leaned  toward  her.  "  I — ask  you  to  tell  me, 
now,  are  you  engaged  to  Senator  Betts?  " 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  neither  startled  nor 
surprised.  "  That  was  not  what  I  thought  you  had 
heard — to-night.  The  other  is  far  more — serious." 

"This  is  serious  enough.    Is  it  true?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Fane.    It  is  not." 

"  One  more  question,"  he  persisted,  an  eager,  almost 
imploring  look  in  his  young  face. 

"  Lieutenant  Fane !  Telegram  for  Lieutenant  Fane !  " 
loudly  droned  a  cub  of  a  bellboy,  stumbling  out  upon 
the  piazza  and  coming  suddenly  upon  them.  Fane  took 
it  and  turned  again  to  the  girl,  leaning  there  against 
the  white  column,  a  filmy  "  burnouse  "  over  her  bowed 
and  bonny  head.  But  the  urchin  waited.  "  There's  an 


PROLOGUE:  AT  THE   POINT  17 

answer,"  he  insisted.     So  Fane  took  it  to  the  hallway, 
opened  and  read: 

WAR  DEPARTMENT,  WASHINGTON,  July  19. 
Lieutenants  Allen  and  Stennett  killed  by  Apaches.     Captain 
Turner  on  leave.    Your  troop  without  an  officer.    All  ordered 
to  the  field.    Now's  your  time.  BURROUGHS, 

Assistant    Adjutant    General. 

She  saw  his  face,  and  came  to  him,  paling. 

"  Have  you,  too,  bad  news  to-night  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Bad,  indeed !  "  he  answered,  half  dazed.  "  Two  of 
our  best  gone — killed  by  Indians.  My  troop  is  ordered 
out,  and  I  must  go." 

But  even  then  the  blockhead  bellboy  stood  his  ground, 
and  no  more  at  the  moment  could  be  said.  The  'bus, 
with  passengers  from  the  last  up-train  for  the  night, 
rumbled  to  the  south  steps.  One  of  its  human  freight 
was  met  by  a  waiter  who  led  him  straightway  through 
the  hall  and  out  to  the  north  piazza  where  in  the  dim 
light  three  forms  were  discernible,  a  young  girl  and  a 
young  officer  side  by  side  at  the  railing,  a  bellboy 
stupidly  staring  midway  across.  The  waiter  fell  back. 
The  new  arrival  went  forward.  Neither  lifting  his  hat 
nor  lowering  his  voice,  but  in  the  tone  of  a  master  he 
abruptly  spoke. 

"  Ethel,'  where  is  your  father  ?  He  gave  me  the  slip 
to-day." 

She  turned,  startled,  a  sudden  flush  on  her  cheek,  sud- 


18  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

den  wrath  or  resentment  in  her  eyes.  She  turned  and 
faced  him,  squarely,  but  for  a  moment  made  no  answer. 
The  effort  seemed  to  repress,  rather  than  to  make,  reply. 
Fane,  too,  had  turned  upon  the  intruder,  astonishment 
and  indignation  in  his  pose.  When  her  lips  moved  as 
though  to  speak,  another  voice  was  heard  at  the  doorway, 
a  voice  that  had  no  welcome  in  it. 

"  You  want  me,  Betts,  I  suppose.  Ethel,  dear,  will 
you  go  to  your  mother?" 

Bowing  her  head,  she  obeyed,  but  at  the  doorway  stood 
one  moment  and  looked  back.  Fane  in  an  instant  was  at 
her  side. 

"  To-morrow  you  will  be  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To-morrow — surely,"  he  answered,  and  she  hastened 
up  the  stairs. 

But  when  the  morrow  came,  and  with  it  Fane,  the 
girl  was  gone.  Father,  mother,  daughter  and  family 
friend  had  taken  the  first  train  townward,  leaving,  ap 
parently,  not  a  word  or  line.  Strange  stories  were  afloat 
with  the  crowded  steamer  that  Saturday  evening.  At 
the  Mess  and  on  the  hotel  piazza  men  in  civilian  garb 
were  whispering  about  Wall  Street;  men  in  uniform 
about  the  war  in  the  far  Southwest.  Fane  had  wired  for 
release  from  duty  at  the  Point,  and  orders  to  join  his 
troop  in  Arizona. 


PART  II 
THE  PATHS  OF  WAR 


CHAPTER  I 

TONTO    PASS 

IN  the  blistering  heat  of  the  afternoon  sun,  tormented 
by  thirst  and  harassed  by  the  merciless  fire  of  the 
surrounding  foe,  a  little  band  of  regulars  had  been 
crouching  for  hours  among  the  rocks  of  the  Sierra 
Ancha,  grimly  standing  off  a  swarm  of  fierce  Apaches 
until  rescue  should  reach  them  from  the  distant  fort. 
Only  twenty  in  number  when  they  left  Danger  Canon 
with  their  prisoners  at  dawn  two  days  before,  they  were 
reduced  to  less  than  ten  effectives  now,  and  the  lieutenant 
commanding,  his  head  bound  in  a  blood-stained  handker 
chief,  his  eyebrow  seared  by  the  sharp  fang  of  the 
Indian  arrow,  had  already  begun  to  count  his  cart 
ridges  and  to  pray  for  "  night  or  Blucher."  Every  hour 
seemed  to  claim  its  victim  and  diminish  his  fighting 
strength.  Every  moment  seemed  to  add  to  the  numbers 
of  the  enemy.  The  great  reservation  was  not  so  very  far 
away.  By  hundreds  the  keen-eyed,  quick-witted  young 
braves  could  readily  slip  unnoticed  from  its  westward 
line,  take  full  share  in  the  slow  annihilation  of  the  secretly 
hated  soldiery,  then  as  swiftly  hie  them  back  to  the 
shelter  of  the  Agency,  innocent,  apparently,  of  either 
deadly  weapon  or  evil  intent. 

91 


22  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

It  was  the  old  story  of  the  old  days  before  railway  or 
telegraph  had  traversed  the  territory.  Raiding  parties, 
recruited  doubtless  from  San  Carlos  or  the  Sierra 
Blanca,  but  inspired  by  Chiricahuas,  schooled  by  such 
virulent  foeman  as  Cochise  and  Victorio,  and  led  by 
young  Geronimo  in  person,  had  murdered  a  stage  load  of 
prospectors  at  the  mouth  of  the  deep,  dark  canon,  had 
burned  Hogan's  ranch  and  butchered  Hogan's  house 
hold.  Small  detachments  from  the  nearest  posts  had 
been  sent  with  the  customary  orders,  "  Pursue  and 
punish."  The  McDowell  "  outfit,"  forty  strong,  under 
Lieutenant  Blake,  had  chased  one  little  gang  southward 
toward  the  fastnesses  of  Superstition  Mountain.  The 
San  Carlos  guard,  twenty  of  them  at  least,  under  Lieu 
tenant  Hunter,  had  trailed  another  batch  into  the  Wild 
Rye  Valley,  and  lost  them;  while  a  third  scout  under 
Lieutenant  Fane  had  had  a  sharp  fight  with  a  third  frag 
ment  in  the  heart  of  the  canon  itself;  had  killed  three, 
captured  two  wounded  warriors,  two  squaws  and  some 
children,  and  scattered  the  rest.  Then,  encumbered  with 
these  charges  and  two  of  their  own  men  quite  seriously 
injured,  they  started  homeward  only  to  find  the  way 
barred  by  rallying  bands,  with  the  result  that,  after  forty 
hours'  siege,  with  half  their  number  dead,  dying,  or 
dangerously  wounded,  they  were  penned  among  the 
rocks  high  up  the  southward  face  of  Tonto  Pass,  their 
prisoners  turned  loose,  and  their  butchered  horses  already 
beginning  to  fester  in  the  fierce  rays,  in  the  ravine  below. 


TONTO   PASS  23 

They  were  out  of  water,  well-nigh  out  of  ammunition,  and 
particularly  out  of  patience  with  a  post  commander  who 
would  send  forth  so  very  few  civilized  men-at-arms  to 
tackle  so  very  many  savages.  The  main  dread  was  that 
their  cartridges  would  not  last  until  relief  could  come. 
The  one  hope  was  that  Corporal  Lafferty,  who  knew  the 
country  like  a  native,  had  succeeded  in  slipping  through 
the  encircling  foe  during  the  dark  hours  before  the  dawn, 
and  could  make  his  way  to  the  cantonment,  two  days' 
ordinary  march  to  the  east,  bearing  warning  of  their 
plight.  Then,  if  the  post  commander  was  neither  an  ass 
nor  a  coward,  as  some  declared  and  more  suspected,  suffi 
cient  force  would  probably  be  sent  to  the  rescue. 

But  rescue  might  not  come  too  surely,  and  could  not 
come  too  soon.  The  major  was  not  the  wisest  man  in 
the  army ;  neither  was  he  the  bravest.  American  soldiers 
are  quick  to  analyze  the  individual  traits  of  their  officers. 
The  "  personal  equation  "  is  speedily  estimated,  and,  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  with  shrewdness  and  accuracy.  "  Ould 
Spigots  wouldn't  have  sent  twenty  fellers  to  do  the  job 
of  a  full  hundred  if  he  hadn't  been  scared  of  his  own 
skin,"  was  Sergeant  Hickey's  way  of  putting  it  when 
talking  with  his  kind.  "  Spigots  "  had  two  companies  of 
Foot  to  guard  the  post  and  two  troops  of  cavalry  to  do 
his  scouting.  There  were  not  Apaches  enough  in  all 
Arizona  to  whip  those  two  companies  of  infantry  fight 
ing  in  defense  of  the  women,  children,  and  the  post,  and 
Spigots  would  have  been  far  wiser  had  he  sent  Captain 


24  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Turner  with  seventy  or  eighty  troopers  in  the  first  place. 
But  he  professed  to  believe  the  "  rumors  "  exaggerated, 
and  so  told  Lieutenant  Fane.  It  was  Turner  who  took 
the  lieutenant  aside,  before  the  start,  and  gave  the  young 
fellow  pointers  that  made  him  grave  and  anxious — 
pointers  that  proved  only  too  well  founded. 

It  was  his  first  serious  responsibility.  He  had  seen 
some  little  scouting  on  the  open  "  plains  "  of  Nebraska 
and  Kansas,  some  blithe  years  of  service  in  eastward 
stations,  especially  West  Point,  but  mountain  work  in 
Apache  land  was  new  to  him,  and  he  was  new  to  almost 
all  the  men.  Only  a  month  or  so  had  he  been  with  them, 
and  there  had  been  no  opportunity  to  gauge  his  caliber 
or  test  his  mettle.  Old  hands  saw  something  to  approve 
in  his  riding  and  his  knowledge  of  drill;  but  those  were 
days  when  in  Arizona  they  rode  little,  drilled  less,  lived 
on  field  rations,  and  died,  as  a  rule,  on  foot  scouts.  New 
hands  comprehensively  called  him  a  fop.  Ten  years  later 
they  would  have  dubbed  him  a  "  dude,"  but  the  term  was 
unknown  in  the  early  70*5.  Old  hands  knew  that  the 
well-born  and  gently  nurtured,  the  so-called  "  swells " 
among  their  officers,  generally  came  out  strong  when  it 
came  to  a  fight.  New  hands  were  invariably  confident 
that  the  contrary  would  be  the  case.  But  both  old  and 
new  hands  were  at  first  disposed  to  differ  from  the  lieu 
tenant  when  he  ordered  "  forward "  after  slaking  the 
thirst  of  both  "  mounts  "  and  men  at  the  crossing  of  the 
Coyotero,  where  scouting  parties  from  the  post  had 


TONTO    PASS  25 

always  camped  for  the  night.  It  lay,  however,  in  a  deep 
pocket  of  the  mountains,  with  commanding  heights  on 
every  side — heights  which  might  be  occupied  by  an  active 
enemy  to  the  discomfiture,  if  not  destruction,  of  the  picnic 
party  below.  "  We  camp  later,"  he  had  briefly  said  to 
Sergeant  Dolan,  as  he  led  the  way  up  the  rocky  trail  in 
the  ravine  beyond,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  decision  was 
apparent  within  three  hours,  for,  halting  and  unsaddling 
at  nightfall,  seven  miles  farther  on  and  well  up  the 
range,  observant  troopers,  looking  back  across  the  deep 
valley,  saw  the  signal  smokes  floating  heavenwards  from 
the  very  heights  whose  shadows  they  had  shunned.  The 
Apache,  then,  was  already  there  in  force,  and  there,  like 
rats  in  a  hole,  would  they,  the  returning  troopers,  prob 
ably  have  died,  cut  off  and  surrounded.  Now,  if  hemmed 
in,  as  answering  eastward  smokes  quickly  told  them  they 
might  be,  they  could  fight  more  on  the  level,  with  a 
chance  for  their  lives. 

But  even  Turner  had  not  foreseen  the  possibility  of  a 
rally  from  the  reservations.  How  was  he  to  know  that 
one  of  the  wounded  Indians,  being  littered  along  by 
Fane's  little  command,  was  no  less  a  personage  than 
Solalay,  medicine  chief,  seer,  dreamer,  prophet  and  high 
priest  of  the  Sierra  Blanca  Apaches — fomenter  of  more 
mischief  and  possessor  of  more  following  than  any  war 
chief  in  the  seven  tribes  of  the  Sierras — all  due  to  his 
infernal  rites  and  incantations  and  the  supertitious  nature 
of  his  people.  "Solalay  shot!"  "  Solalay  '  taken  I " 


26  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  Solalay,  his  squaws,  his  son,  his  brother — all  prisoners, 
and  being  taken  to  the  fort !  "  "  Come  warriors  all !  " 
"  Come  to  the  rescue !  "  were  the  words  that  went  like 
wildfire  through  the  "  rancherias  "  and  wickyups  among 
the  heights  and  hollows  of  the  reservation,  and  what 
warrior  dare  deny  him  whose  runners  sped,  crying: 
"  Come  to  the  gorge  of  the  Coyotero,  on  the  trail  to 
Danger  Canon ! "  And  in  overwhelming  numbers, 
though  in  little  squads  of  three  or  four,  from  a  dozen 
points  along  the  westward  boundary,  all  unguarded,  the 
rescuers  came.  The  signals  told  them  the  white  chief  had 
been  too  wary.  He  would  not  camp,  as  had  been  cus 
tomary,  on  the  bank  of  the  clear,  rushing  stream.  Even 
though  it  involved  a  seven-mile  stumble  up  a  rocky  trail, 
and  only  tepid,  brackish  tank  water  to  drink  over  night, 
Teniente  Chiquito  had  pushed  on,  prisoners  and  all, 
to  the  first  big  fight  of  his  young  life,  for  at  the  break 
of  dawn  they  had  "  rushed  "  him  ten  to  one ;  had  dropped 
a  dozen  of  their  number  in  the  fierce  assault,  and  been 
whipped  back  empty  handed.  Then  came  the  wiser 
policy  of  the  "  surround  "  and  long-range  pot  hunting, 
stalking  their  bayed  enemy  from  rock,  bowlder,  cactus, 
"  suwarrow  " ;  filling  the  air  with  barbed  arrows  and 
barbaric  yells,  slowly  reducing  the  number  of  the  de 
fenders  until,  after  sturdy,  resolute,  heroic  fighting  for 
over  seven  hours,  it  had  become  apparent  to  Fane  that  by 
nightfall  there  would  probably  be  nobody  left.  To  save 
the  remnant  of  his  force  he  must  at  least  suffer  the  loss 


TONTO    PASS  &t 

of  his  prisoners,  hitherto  securely  held  in  a  crevice  of  the 
rocks.  Even  then  neither  he  nor  the  veterans  among  his 
men  had  any  idea  that  Solalay,  the  renowned,  was  one 
of  them.  "  The  whole  reservation  must  be  out,"  said  old 
Dolan  grimly,  as  early  as  seven  o'clock,  and  at  eleven 
every  rock  and  bush  on  every  side  seemed  to  have  its 
swarthy  tenant,  and  every  tenant  either  his  sheaf  of  steel- 
barbed  arrows,  or  his  long-ranged  but  no  more  deadly 
rifle.  It  was  a  case  of  at  least  thirty  to  one.  It  was  well- 
nigh  desperate. 

Farnham,  Schmidt,  and  Welch  lay  dead  among  the 
bowlders  of  the  tanks;  Doyle  and  Murray,  transfixed  by 
arrows,  were  gasping  in  torment ;  Fuller's  right  shoulder 
was  smashed  by  a  bullet;  Higgins  was  shot  with  a 
Springfield  .50  through  both  thighs,  and  had  bled  almost 
to  death.  Many  another  was  stung  or  scratched,  but  still 
effective.  Fane  himself  had  a  sharp  clip  along  the  right 
side,  yet  hardly  noticed  it.  The  poor  horses  and  a  half 
dozen  pack  mules,  herded  for  safety  in  a  little  ravine 
below  the  tanks,  one  by  one,  all  but  four,  had  dropped 
and  died,  some  now  looking  like  magnified  pincushions. 
Halfway  up  the  bowlder-strewn  slope  to  the  north,  per 
haps  two  hundred  yards  from  the  tanks  about  which  his 
men  were  crouching,  Fane  had  marked  a  little  clump  of 
cedars  and  what  looked  to  be  an  overhanging,  rocky 
ledge,  far  too  small  to  accommodate  the  men  and  horses 
of  his  original  command,  but  big  enough  as  a  refuge  for 
those  he  had  left.  If  now  they  could  only  get  there  and 


28  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

carry  thither  the  helpless  among  their  wounded!  That 
was  the  problem !  Already  it  was  occupied  by  several 
Apaches,  for  the  exposure  of  head  or  hand  on  part  of 
any  man  of  the  defense  would  be  followed  by  instant 
flash  from  the  cedars  or  the  rocks  around  them.  Kneel 
ing  by  his  young  officer  as  the  sun  climbed  toward  the 
zenith  was  Dolan,  veteran  sergeant  of  the  great  civil 
war,  and  many  a  year  on  the  plains,  and  to  him  the  sub 
altern  turned,  unhesitating: 

"A  rush  will  drive  those  villains  out,"  said  he,  "but 
how  shall  we  get  our  wounded  there  ?  " 

"  Hoist  them  on  what's  left  of  the  horses,  sir,  and  then 
drive  the  Indian  prisoners  ahead  of  them.  It's  the  only 
way.  Once  there  we  can  turn  those  beggars  loose." 

It  was  the  only  way !  With  all  its  risk  and  peril,  it  was 
the  only  way!  To  remain  meant  slow  annihilation.  To 
cut  through  to  the  cedars  meant  the  possibility  of  refuge 
for  all  survivors  until  help  could  come.  Once  there  the 
little  band  might  be  secure  from  fire  from  the  north  and 
west,  and  it  was  worth  the  trial.  "  Fill  every  canteen 
first,"  was  the  low-murmured  order  passed  from  lip  to 
lip,  and  Sutton,  the  boy  trumpeter  of  the  sorrel  troop 
(Alas  that  so  many  of  Turner's  beautiful  horses  should 
now  be  lying,  hoofs  up,  in  that  bloody  ravine  below!) 
crept  from  man  to  man  and  then  to  the  stagnant  pools 
of  rainwater — "  tanks  "  by  Arizona  nomenclature — held 
in  rocky  basins  since  the  April  cloudburst.  Presently 
each  trooper  was  supplied  with  a  dripping  canteen,  some 


TONTO   PASS  29 

of  the  seniors  with  two.  Saddle  blankets  were  spread 
over  the  stiffening  forms  of  the  dead,  and  a  few  loose 
rocks  heaped  over  and  about  them,  the  only  sepulture 
possible  under  the  circumstances,  a  mute  appeal  to  savage 
foemen  not  to  mutilate  the  poor  remains,  and  this,  too, 
accomplished  only  at  the  imminent  risk  of  life  or  limb, 
for  arrow  and  bullet  hissed  and  spit  about  them  as  they 
crawled  from  body  to  body,  from  rock  to  rock.  Dolan's 
hat  was  torn  from  his  grizzled  poll  by  a  well-aimed 
feathered  shaft,  but  the  veteran  was  destined  to  live  to 
fight — and  die — another  day.  Young  Sutton  cried  out 
in  sudden  pang  as  the  same  arrow  that  uncrowned  his 
sergeant  ripped  a  gash  in  his  cheek,  then  cursed  himself 
for  a  baby,  and,  dropping  his  canteen,  picked  up  poor 
Welch's  blood-stained  carbine  and,  sighting  over  the 
sheltering  bowlder,  sent  a  Sharp's  bullet  to  the  rocks  in 
vain  search  for  the  archer. 

Then  came  the  next  stage  of  the  desperate  game. 
Doyle,  Higgins,  and  Murray,  though  conscious,  were 
helpless,  and  had  to  be  carried.  Fuller,  though  in  ex 
quisite  pain,  could  at  least  use  his  legs  and  head.  Three 
of  the  horses,  still  able  to  stagger,  were  led  up  from  the 
ravine  to  the  partial  shelter  of  a  rocky  buttress  close  to 
the  westward  tank,  and  waiting  comrades  crouched 
ready  to  lift  two  of  the  sufferers  into  saddle,  but  poor 
Higgins  could  not  hope  to  survive  the  agony  of  riding, 
with  both  thighs  jetting  blood.  One  horse  fell  before  he 
could  be  used.  Two  of  the  strongest  men  were  told  off 


SO  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

to  lift  the  Irishman  in  a  blanket.  It  was  the  best  they 
could  do.  It  left  only  seven  men  to  fight:  six  had  to 
look  after  the  wounded.  Then,  leaving  the  Indian  medi 
cine  man  silent  and  glaring  on  his  litter,  Dolan  called  up 
the  trembling  squaws,  the  but  slightly  wounded  warrior, 
and  a  wailing  Apache  lad.  Wondering,  they  arose  and 
obeyed,  though  believing  they  were  going  to  their  death. 
With  the  butt  of  his  carbine  the  sergeant  drove  them 
before  him  through  the  bowlders  to  the  edge  of  the  road, 
and  from  the  cedars  before  them  and  the  rocky  slopes 
on  every  side  went  up  a  cry  of  mingled  rage  and  anguish. 
What  could  it  mean  but  that  the  white  soldiers  were 
about  to  shoot  their  prisoners,  as  the  Indian  would  do, 
despairing  of  his  own  escape?  For  a  moment  the 
Apaches  dare  not  fire,  fearing  to  hit  their  own.  The 
young  brave  had  begun  his  weird  death  song.  The 
young  officer,  with  quivering  nerves  but  teeth  close  set, 
carbine  in  hand,  came  crouching  to  join  his  sergeant,  and 
then  they  heard  his  voice.  "  Now,  men,  it's  to  be  a  rush 
for  those  cedars.  No  matter  who  drops,  the  others  must 
keep  on.  First  get  our  wounded  there,  then  we  can 
rescue  any  who  are  hit.  Up  with  Doyle  and  Murray, 
now !  Ready,  sergeant  ?  " 

"  Ready,  sir,"  came  the  veteran's  answer,  as,  leaping 
to  his  feet,  he  whacked  the  chanting  savage  between  the 
shoulder  blades  with  the  butt  of  his  gun.  "  Now,  you 
blackguard,  Ugashie!"  he  yelled,  and  like  a  deer  the 
Indian  sprang  up  the  slope  ahead.  The  two  squaws  fled 


TONTO    PASS  31 

screaming  after  him,  and,  all  in  a  second,  Fane's  little 
party,  firing  right  and  left  wherever  savage  headdress  or 
swarthy  face  appeared,  with  the  staggering  horses,  the 
half  fainting  riders  in  their  midst,  and  the  blanket- 
stretcher  bearers  stumbling  blindly  after  them,  went 
charging  zigzag  up  the  slope,  Fane  and  Dolan  shouting  in 
the  lead.  Desperate  as  it  seemed,  it  was  well  contrived, 
for  now  the  Apaches  fired  wildly  and  without  aim,  and 
only  from  flank  and  rear,  for  those  in  front  were  curtained 
by  the  fleeing,  shrieking  prisoners,  expecting  every  instant 
to  be  shot  down  by  their  pursuers  as  they  ran.  Arrow 
and  bullet  both  hissed  about  the  poor  shrinking  forms 
in  saddle,  and  zipped  and  bounded  from  the  rocks.  Cries 
of  agony  and  moans  of  anguish  alike  were  hushed  in 
the  uproar  of  the  carbines  and  the  maddening  clamour  of 
the  charge.  No  time  for  backward  glance  or  laggard 
pause.  All  eyes  now  were  fastened  on  the  goal,  all 
muscles  steeled  for  the  final  effort.  Right  and  left,  with 
streaming,  dirty-white  breech  clouts,  sinewy,  dusky 
forms  went  bounding  away  from  the  cedars — too  well 
the  Apache  knew  the  risk  of  hand  to  hand  fight  with  the 
hated  paleface — and  those  tall,  vengeful,  cheering,  blue- 
shirted  ruffians  in  the  lead  were  rushing  straight  at  them. 
There  was  no  Indian  left  to  hold  the  fort  when  the  fore 
most  troopers,  with  lowered  carbines,  came  bounding  in: 
then,  though  breathless,  turning  to  open  swift  fire  on  the 
now  more  reckless  foemen,  and  to  lend  a  hand  at  lifting 
exhausted  comrades  into  the  hard-won  refuge.  It  had 


32  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

taken  barely  two  minutes  to  cross  that  fire-swept,  rock- 
strewn  slope.  It  had  seemed  almost  an  age,  so  desperate 
was  the  peril — so  fierce  was  the  volleying — so  awful,  to 
those  who  had  to  hold  back  and  hear  them,  the  piteous 
cries  of  the  tortured  wounded.  With  two  fresh  arrows 
sticking  in  his  reeking  sides  one  poor  horse  plunged 
madly  into  the  little  space  between  the  cedars  and  the 
ledge  beyond,  his  fainting  rider,  Doyle,  toppling  head 
long  out  of  saddle.  There  was  no  room  for  quadrupeds, 
no  mercy  now  for  those  that  at  any  other  time  would 
have  been  the  object  of  their  tenderest  care.  Fane's 
heart  seemed  to  come  up  into  his  throat  in  one  great  sob 
of  pity  as  he  had  to  strike  the  blow  that  drove  the  suf 
fering  creature  back  upon  the  blistering  rocks,  which  it 
deluged  with  its  blood,  then  dropped  and  died.  One  by 
one  the  charging  troopers  reached  the  cedars  and  threw 
themselves  upon  the  ground  gasping  for  breath,  well- 
nigh  exhausted.  Poor  Fuller  fell  in  a  swoon  fifty  feet 
short  of  the  point,  and  Dolan  grabbed  him  under  his  left 
arm  and  dragged  him  along  until  Scott  could  bear  a 
hand  in  helping.  Murray's  horse,  though  shot  the 
second  time,  all  unled,  unaided,  came  safely  into  the 
covert,  his  work  accomplished,  only  to  be  driven  forth  as 
soon  as  his  limp  rider  could  be  lowered  to  the  ground. 
They  saw  him,  neighing  piteously,  go  staggering  down 
the  slope  again  in  search  of  comrades  and  of  water. 
They  saw,  at  least  some  did,  a  blue-shirted  arm  uplifted 
among  the  bowlders  halfway  back  toward  the  tanks — 


TONTO    PASS  33 

uplifted  as  though  in  appeal  to  the  friendless  brute  to 
rescue  him,  the  abandoned  of  his  own  comrades.  Then, 
as  they  looked  about  them,  gasping  inquiry  and  dread, 
these  few  who  had  succeeded  in  bringing  their  three  or 
four  severely  wounded  fellows  to  shelter,  to  the  sobbing 
question  "  Who's  left?  "  "  Who  didn't  make  it?  "  there 
came  the  miserable  answer  of  a  poor  lad,  himself  bleeding 
from  a  fresh  arrow  wound,  quivering  with  pain  and  ter 
ror — a  young  recruit  on  his  first  scout,  "  It's  Hayden — 
him  that  was  holding  Murray  in  saddle!  His  leg  was 
broke  by  a  bullet." 

*  And  already  the  besieged  could  see  that  the  agile 
Indians,  darting  from  bowlder  to  bowlder,  were  fast 
closing  in  upon  the  abandoned  position  of  the  tanks,  upon 
their  comrades,  the  unburied  dead,  upon  that  latest  vic 
tim  of  the  ambuscade,  their  comrade,  the  stricken  and 
helpless  and  conscious  living,  and  in  the  awed  and  awful 
silence  that  fell  upon  the  party,  faint,  yet  distinct  came 
the  appealing  cry  "  For  God's  sake,  boys,  don't  leave  me 
here !  Don't  let  them  get  me !  " 

And  then  the  volleying  began  again. 


CHAPTER  II 

A     NOBLE     RESCUE 

THAT  was  at  noon  the  first  day.  Now  it  was 
noon  of  the  second,  and  in  those  twenty-four 
hours  the  question  of  that  "  personal  equation  " 
had  been  settled  for  all  time,  so  far  as  the  lieutenant  com 
manding  was  concerned.  The  caliber  had  been  deter 
mined;  the  mettle  was  declared.  From  an  unknown 
quantity  as  an  Indian  fighter  and  a  man,  Lieutenant  Fane 
had  sprung  into  the  fullness  of  a  soldier's  reward — the 
love  and  reverence  of  his  men ;  for  love  and  even  worship 
both  they  give  in  unstinted  measure  to  the  officer  who 
dares  death,  perhaps  by  cruel  torture,  to  save  the  hum 
blest  of  their  kind  from  the  possibility  of  such  a  fate. 
This  had  Fane  done  in  face  of  most  appalling  odds.  This 
had  Fane  done  in  spite  of  vehement  remonstrance  from 
veteran  campaigners.  This  had  Fane  done  after  Dolan 
had  been  wounded,  and  Sinclair  shot  dead  in  the  desperate 
attempt.  This  had  Fane  done  when  reason  itself  pleaded 
with  him  not  to  dare  it,  and  even  conscience  gave  him 
pause.  Were  there  not  others  to  be  considered? — others 
here  and  elsewhere  to  whom  his  life  and  services  might 
soon  be  necessary?  For  many  a  day  that  deed  became 
the  talk  of  many  a  tongue  in  soldier  circles  all  over  the 

34 


A    NOBLE    RESCUE  35 

West.  For  many  a  month  it  stood  without  a  parallel  in 
point  of  daring  and  difficulty,  and  for  some  strange  rea 
son  for  many  a  week  it  stood  unheralded,  unrecognized 
in  official  reports,  therefore  does  it  deserve  its  full  meed 
of  honor  and  attention  here. 

Hayden  had  come  from  nobody  knew  where,  a  young 
recruit  who  within  the  month  had  been  assigned  to  Tur 
ner's  troop  from  the  last  batch  received  from  the  States. 
He  had  given  his  age  as  twenty-one,  his  birthplace  some 
little  interior  town  of  Pennsylvania,  his  occupation  a 
clerk,  and  the  recruiting  officer  had  done  the  rest.  He 
did  not  look  to  be  twenty-one.  He  had  delicate,  almost 
girlish,  features.  He  was  barely  five  feet  six  in  his 
spurred  cavalry  boots,  and  he  could  not  have  weighed  one 
hundred  and  thirty,  yet  had  he  been  accepted.  He  proved 
a  good  rider,  and  somewhere  had  learned  something  of 
foot  drill  and  the  manual.  He  was  either  homesick, 
or  perhaps  "  hazed  "  too  much  when  the  detachment  was 
ordered  out,  but  he  and  young  Ferniss,  who  came  with 
him,  had  begged  the  first  sergeant  to  let  them  go,  and 
when  that  gruff  but  worthy  veteran  told  them  to  be  off 
about  their  business  (they  whipped  off  their  caps  and 
stood  attention  to,  and  in  awe  of,  first  sergeants  in  those 
days)  they  never  stopped  to  argue,  but  shot  for  the  door 
and  collided  at  the  threshold  with  a  man  they  as  yet  knew 
and  feared  far  less — their  captain.  Turner  asked  what 
was  wanted,  and  shook  his  head  when  told.  "  Mr.  Fane 
may  need  good  shots  and  steady  old  hands/'  said  he.  It 


36  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

was  Major  "  Spigots  "  who  settled  the  question  in  favor 
of  the  youngsters  by  happening  in  at  that  very  minute  to 
say  to  Captain  Turner  that  instead  of  sending  half  a  troop 
he  should  only  send  his  lieutenant  with  twenty  men. 
"  And  I  wish  our  recruits  broken  in  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible,"  he  added,  "  so  send  two  or  three  with  every  scout." 
Orders  are  orders.  The  captain  and  the  sergeant  ex 
changed  glances — but  no  words.  The  two  lads  went, 
and  as  related,  Furniss,  terror-stricken  at  the  fate  of  his 
friend,  had  dropped  the  reins  of  poor  Murray's  horse  and 
run  for  the  cedars,  while  little  Hayden,  with  his  left  leg 
shattered  below  the  knee,  lay  shouting  for  help  among  the 
rocks  halfway  back  down  the  slope. 

It  was  on  the  dash  for  the  cedars  that  Mr.  Fane  was 
nearly  blinded  by  an  arrow  from  the  left  that  tore  a  rent 
along  the  forehead  just  over  the  eyes.  The  blood  poured 
into  them,  and  much  rude  surgery  and  not  a  little  of  his 
shirt  and  all  of  his  handkerchief  were  needed  before  his 
men  could  stanch  the  flow.  Much  water,  too,  was  used 
at  a  time  when  all  the  command,  wounded  and  un- 
wounded,  were  taking  a  pull  at  the  canteens.  For  an 
hour,  while  his  best  shots,  lying  prone  or  crouching  in 
their  little  fortress,  held  the  Apaches  at  respectful  dis 
tance  and  rattled  their  rapid  fire,  the  lieutenant  lay  on  his 
back,  quiet  and  uncomplaining,  occasionally  aiding  Cor 
poral  Scott,  his  amateur  surgeon,  with  some  suggestion. 
He  knew  of  Hayden's  plight;  had  called  with  powerful 
voice  to  him  whom  he  could  not  see :  "  Lie  still.  We'll 


A   NOBLE    RESCUE  37 

get  to  you  presently,"  and  now  was  striving  to  plan  some 
way,  not  only  of  reaching,  but  of  bringing  him  in.  To 
him  it  might  not  be  so  difficult  to  crawl,  edging  from 
bowlder  to  bowlder.  How  to  bring  him  up  that  hundred 
yards  of  missile-swept  slope  was  the  problem,  yet  before 
dark  it  must  be  done,  for  at  dusk  of  a  surety  the  Apaches 
would  steal  among  the  rocks  until  they  reached  him,  and 
then  leisurely,  lingeringly,  would  butcher  him  with  their 
knives,  rejoicing  the  while  in  the  awful  screams  of  their 
helpless  victim.  Fane  knew  all  about  it,  though  this  was 
his  first  independent  scout  in  Arizona,  Indian  methods  of 
torture  being  much  the  same  the  wild  West  over. 

But,  before  he  was  able  to  see  and  to  resume  command 
again,  Sergeant  Dolan,  with  one  gallant  fellow  to  aid 
him,  had  made  an  essay  of  his  own.  It  was  spontane 
ous,  unpremeditated,  and  well-nigh  fatal  to  all  concerned. 

Hayden's  cries  for  help  had  not  ceased.  He  seemed  to 
think  it  necessary  to  keep  up  the  clamour,  and,  while  it 
could  no  earlier  bring  him  aid,  it  kept  the  enemy  informed 
of  his  exact  position,  and  only  just  missed  compassing  his 
death.  Two  of  the  Apaches,  more  venturesome  than 
their  fellows,  coveting  the  distinction  of  killing  a  defense 
less  foe,  had  crawled,  snakelike,  across  the  road  from  the 
side  of  the  tanks,  and  slowly,  cautiously  wormed  their 
way,  keeping  out  of  view  of  the  besieged,  and  presently 
the  poor  lad  caught  sight  of  them  slowly  creeping  toward 
him,  the  foremost  with  his  knife  in  his  teeth,  and  then  his 
yell  for  help  was  unearthly  in  its  agony.  It  was  more 


38  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

than  Dolan  and  Sinclair  could  stand.  Carbine  at  full 
cock,  they  were  aiming  through  the  cedars  at  the  bowl 
ders  beyond  the  road,  watching  for  the  first  head  to  show 
itself.  They  were  at  the  west  end  of  the  little  ledge  at 
the  moment,  while  their  officer,  faint  from  loss  of  blood 
and  blind  from  his  bandages,  lay  beneath  the  overhang 
of  rock  toward  the  eastward  side,  Scott's  nervous  fingers 
still  busily  at  work.  "  Shall  we  try  ?  "  muttered  Sinclair. 
"  Come  on !  "  said  Dolan,  setting  his  teeth,  and  down  the 
slope  they  drove,  full  dash  for  the  point  where  Hayden 
lay.  Instantly  arrow  and  bullet  flew  to  meet  them,  yet 
happily  missed.  They  reached  him  unscathed.  Both 
Indians  at  sight  of  them  sprang  to  their  feet  and  ran 
venire  a  terre,  but  Dolan's  bullet  tore  through  the  vitals 
of  one  and  sent  him  sprawling  on  his  face.  The  other 
reached  the  tanks  unhurt.  Then,  between  them,  the  two 
daring,  devoted  fellows  strove  to  lift  and  carry  the 
wounded  boy.  As  much  as  twenty  yards  they  actually 
dragged  or  bore  him  before  poor  Sinclair  paid  the  for 
feit  of  his  devotion,  and  sank  without  a  sound,  shot 
through  the  brain.  "  Lie  you  here,  Hayden ;  I  can't  lift 
you  alone,"  said  Dolan,  "  I'll  stay  with  you."  But,  even 
as  he  spoke  and  before  he  could  sprawl  beside  the  faint 
ing  lad,  a  bullet  tore  across  his  broad  and  heaving  chest 
and  flattened  on  the  bowlder  by  his  side.  Two  more  of 
Fane's  best  men  were  hors  de  combat,  and  the  day  was  not 
yet  done. 

An  hour  later,  his  clothing  soaked  with  blood,  Dolan 


A    NOBLE    RESCUE  39 

managed  to  crawl  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  cedars  and, 
being  aided  into  the  refuge,  was  given  stimulant  from  the 
lieutenant's  flask,  and  then  told  his  tale:  Sinclair  dead, 
Hayden  half  dead  and  now  suffering  for  water.  Dolan 
himself,  faint  and  exhausted  from  loss  of  blood,  was  yet 
eager  to  gather  strength  and  go  again  to  the  succor  of  the 
wounded  boy.  But  not  an  eye  looked  into  his  with  an 
swering  fervor.  Death  had  won  too  many.  The  men 
were  getting  cowed.  Fane's  eyes  were  still  shrouded  by 
their  bandage.  Scott  dare  not  lift  it  for  fear  of  starting 
again  the  enfeebling  flow.  But  Fane  could  listen  and 
reflect  and  ask  questions  that  plainly  showed  the  trend  of 
his  thoughts.  Those  soldier  spirits  were  beginning  to 
lean  on  his  judgment  now.  He  had  skillfully  withdrawn 
them  from  a  position  of  peril  to  one  that  promised  safety 
for  another  day,  perhaps  even  until  relief  could  come. 
The  move  had  been  accomplished  with  less  loss  than 
seemed  possible  and,  so  long  as  they  clung  to  the  cedars, 
though  both  arrow  and  bullet  whizzed  above  and  about 
them,  no  man  had  been  struck.  Dolan  and  Sinclair  had 
met  their  wounds  in  venturing  forth;  therefore  should 
there  be  no  further  venturing  if  others  could  prevent  it. 
The  best  troops  in  the  world,  say  the  authorities,  find  their 
breaking  strain  when  one-third  of  their  number  are  shot 
down.  These  men  had  suffered  the  loss  of  more — just 
more — than  half.  And  now  poor  Hayden's  voice  was 
again  uplifted,  feebler  far,  and  to  his  former  plea  for  help 
was  added  the  prayer,  "  For  God's  sake — water !  "  There 


40  THE   MEDAL    OF   HONOR 

was  not  a  full  canteen  among  them.  Some  few  were 
already  empty.  Dolan  was  drinking  long  from  Scott's; 
his  own,  pierced  by  a  bullet,  had  leaked  out  every  drop. 
In  their  fevered  state  and  in  the  fierce  and  glaring  heat  the 
wounded  men  were  already  moaning  for  more. 

Fane  signalled  with  his  hand.  Corporal  Scott  bent 
over  him.  "  One  of  you  shout  to  Hayden  to  be  patient  a 
little  longer,"  said  he.  "We  are  coming  to  get  him." 
And  Scott,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  at  the  concluding 
words,  nevertheless  told  Mullins  to  shout  as  ordered. 
Mullins  obeyed,  and  for  response  there  rose  a  derisive 
jeer  down  by  the  tanks — a  few  loud  words  in  the  Tonto 
dialect,  and  then  a  chorus  of  taunts,  yells  and  laughter 

from  on  every  side.  It's  that  d d  scoundrel,  the  Kid  !  " 

said  Scott,  between  his  teeth.  "  He  picked  up  English, 
with  his  living,  around  the  garrison,  and  now  he's  play 
ing  interpreter. his  hide !  " 

But  Fane  was  paying  no  heed  to  taunt  or  laughter. 
He  was  pondering  deeply.  Life  had  been  sweet  to  him 
through  his  young  manhood.  Born  and  bred  in  the  army, 
he  had  grown  up  steeped  in  its  tenets  and  traditions ;  had 
gone  early  to  West  Point,  a  reward  for  the  brilliant  ser 
vices  of  his  soldier  father,  and  now  that  father  was  com 
manding  his  regiment  in  the  distant  East,  hoping  again  to 
wear  the  stars  before  retirement.  The  loving  mother, 
and  the  girls,  his  sisters,  were  there  on  the  seaboard  with 
him,  and  well  did  Fane  know  with  what  confidence  and 
pride  they  watched  the  despatches  from  the  Pacific  slope. 


A    NOBLE    RESCUE  41 

He,  the  only  son  and  brother,  would  never  fail  them.  The 
name  had  never  known  a  shirk  or  coward.  Thus  far  in 
their  reports  his  seniors  had  spoken  well  of  him.  Thus 
far  he  had  upheld  the  traditions  of  his  House,  but  all  had 
been  plain  sailing,  so  to  speak.  Never  until  now  had 
there  come  supreme  test,  but  come  at  last  it  had.  Now  it 
was  for  him  to  decide,  to  act,  to  take  his  life  in  his  hands 
and,  daring  all,  to  do  or  to  die.  There  was  a  dream,  a 
hope  that  had  been  fondly  and  secretly  cherished  ever 
since  the  previous  summer.  Even  Pet,  his  confidante 
among  the  sisterhood  of  three,  had  never  been  told.  He 
meant  to  tell  her,  though,  if  all  went  well  and  the  answer 
to  his  letters,  sometimes  four  weeks  on  the  way,  should 
warrant  it.  There  was  a  girl  in  cloudland  and  a  distant 
Eastern  State  who  had  looked  with  favoring  eyes  on  the 
young  trooper;  had  danced  with  him  rather  more,  and 
ridden  much  more,  than  with  anyone  else  the  previous 
summer  at  the  Point.  She  was  an  acknowledged  belle, 
and  a  partially  acknowledged  beauty.  She  had  been 
spoken  of,  commercially,  as  a  "  catch,"  which  Fane  heard 
with  inward  shrinking— it  hurt  his  chances  for  one  rea 
son,  though  there  were  others.  Such  letters  as  had  come 
were  pleasant  reading,  very  friendly,  quite  encouraging,— 
just  such  society  letters,  as  experienced  fellows  could  have 
told  him,  that  girls  send  when  they  wish  to  hear  more 
than  has  yet  been  said,  without  for  their  part  saying  any 
thing.  Fane  thought  them  charming,  if  vague ;  but  then 
why  should  she— how  could  she— say  more  when  as  yet 


42  THE    MEDAL    OF   HONOR 

he  had  made  no  definite  proposition?  If  she  knew  any 
thing,  and  he  believed  she  knew  much,  she  knew  he  cared 
for  her  far  more  than  for  any  girl  he  had  ever  met ;  only 
— how  could  a  man  ask  any  girl  to  give  up  such  a  home 
as  hers  to  dwell  in  Arizona  ?  Another  year,  probably,  the 
regiment  would  be  eastward  bound, — that  had  been 
almost  promised, — and  then,  then  with  his  captaincy 
surely  not  four  years  away,  he  might  pluck  up  courage 
and  go  and  ask  her. 

But  meantime  here  was  his  little  force  reduced  one- 
half  by  death  or  wounds,  by  arrow  or  bullet;  cut  off 
from  food,  friends,  or  water  by  a  host  of  circling  and 
savage  foes, — foes  that  took  few  chances  and  gave  no 
quarter.  Meantime  here,  only  eighty  yards  away,  in  the 
scorching  sun,  crippled,  tortured  and  imploring,  here  was 
young  Hayden,  shrieking  in  his  misery,  praying  for  aid, 
and  he,  the  responsible  officer,  had  said,  "  No  matter  who 
drops,  the  others  must  keep  on.  Get  our  wounded  there 
first,  then  we  can  rescue  any  who  are  hit."  Hayden  lay 
demanding  the  fulfillment  of  a  soldier's  promise — the 
keeping  of  a  knightly  word. 

Then  Fane  rose  slowly  to  his  knees.  "  We  must  have 
this  off  now,  corporal,"  said  he  quietly.  "  I  have  got  to 
look  about  me."  Silently  the  soldier  obeyed,  his  hands- 
trembling  a  bit  as  slowly  and  cautiously  he  removed  the 
sodden  folds.  One  end  of  the  jagged  rent  began  again 
to  bleed.  "  Draw  the  edges  together,"  said  Fane,  "  and 
stick  on  a  strip  of  court-plaster."  Scott  knew  what  that 


A   NOBLE    RESCUE  4S 

meant,  and  glanced  appealingly  at  Dolan,  lying  flat  in  the 
scant  shade  of  a  little  cedar. 

"  The  lieutenant  surely  will  not  try  it,"  began  Dolan, 
rising  to  his  elbow.  "  It's  certain  death,  sir." 

"  You  tried  it,"  answered  Fane  briefly,  and  looking 
about  him  with  eyes  that  blinked  in  the  insupportable 
glare.  In  spite  of  scorching  heat  how  wan  and  drawn 
were  the  faces  all  turned  now  full  upon  him.  The  strain 
was  indeed  telling  on  one  and  all. 

"  We  tried,  sir,  when  there  seemed  a  chance,"  was 
Dolan's  answer.  "  They  made  us  understand  there  was 
none.  I  beg  the  lieutenant  to  wait  till  evening,  till  dark, 
then  two  of  us  can  venture  down  and  ride  him  up  on  Hig- 
gins's  blanket."  From  the  eyes  of  every  man  came  re 
sponsive  pleading,  from  the  lips  of  every  man  responsive 
murmured  protest.  From  down  the  slope  again  there 
came,  though  fainter,  feebler  still,  the  wailing  cry  of  that 
tortured  boy.  "  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  fellows,  help — 
water !  "  and  now  Fane  shook  loose  the  restraining  hand 
the  corporal  had  ventured  to  place  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  shelf  of  rock  whence  he  could 
peer  through  the  cedars.  Meantime  the  men  lay,  looking 
helplessly  into  each  other's  faces  until  Dolan  spoke : 

"  It  will  take  the  heart  out  of  what's  left  of  us,  sir,  if 
anything  happens  to  you.  Let  Sutton  slip  down  to  him 
with  a  canteen.  The  boy's  willing  to  try." 

The  boy  might  have  been — two  hours  earlier,  but  he  had 
seen  and  suffered  too  much.  There  was  not  a  soldier  left 


44  THE   MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

sound  and  stout-hearted  enough  to  make  the  desperate 
essay,  and  Fane  saw  and  realized  it.  "  Give  me  my  belt 
and  revolver,"  was  his  only  answer.  In  silence  he  buckled 
it  about  his  slender  waist.  "  Now,  a  pull  at  a  canteen," 
he  presently  added.  "  No,  not  the  flask,"  for  Scott 
glanced  up  inquiringly.  "  It  may  have  to  be  slow  work, 
not  a  dash."  Rinsing  his  mouth,  he  then  poured  a  little 
over  bis  wrists.  "  Now,  listen,"  said  he.  "  I  know  how 
firemen  carry  heavy  men.  My  muscles  are  sound  and 
strong,  thank  God,  and  Hayden  doesn't  weigh  much  more 
than  a  child.  I'll  crawl  till  I  get  to  him,  give  him  a  swal 
low  or  two,  then  hoist  him  and  start.  You  men,  all  of 
you,  blaze  away  at  every  head  in  every  direction,  and  I 
believe  we  can  make  it.  If  we — don't,  then  Sergeant 
Dolan's  in  command  until  the  captain  comes,  and  you  can 
count  on  his  coming." 

Once  more  came  the  appeal  from  the  sergeant,  "  For 
God's  sake,  wait  till  evening,  sir."  Once  more  the  appeal 
from  below,  "  For  God's  sake,  come — I'm  dying." 

"  Don't  you  hear?  "  said  Fane..  "  That  poor  lad  won't 
last  till  nightfall,  even  if  the  Indians  don't  get  him.  Re 
member  the  instructions  now.  That's  all." 

With  that  the  slender,  sinewy  form  of  the  young  leader 
quickly,  suddenly  dove  from  the  eastward  opening, 
straight  for  the  shelter  of  a  bowlder  some  ten  feet  out  in 
front  of  the  shelf,  and  only  a  few  feet  below  its  level.  It 
was  done  in  an  instant,  but  a  yell  went  up  from  the  encir 
cling  rocks — a  quick  crackle  of  shots  on  the  breathless 


A   NOBLE   RESCUE  43 

air.  "  All  right  so  far,"  his  humbler  comrades  heard  him 
call,  and  then,  such  as  could  not  shoot,  such  as  could  only 
watch  and  pray,  dragged  themselves  to  the  natural  parapet 
along  the  trees  and  peered  under  the  stiff,  hot  branches. 
They  saw  the  lithe  form  flat  thrown  upon  the  sands,  clad 
like  their  own  in  flannel  shirt,  canvas  hunting  trousers, 
and  Apache  moccasins  whose  loose  folds  fell  about  the 
ankles ;  saw  him  go  twisting  and  squirming  from  the  first 
bowlder  across  the  burning  slope  to  the  shelter  of  the 
next,  even  as  bullets  flattened  and  barbed  arrows  bounded 
upon  the  rocks  about  him.  They  saw  him  peering  cau 
tiously  out  from  one  rock  in  search  of  another  refuge; 
saw  him  half  glide,  half  scurry,  across  another  patch  of 
open  space",  the  earth  tossed  in  little  jets  by  the  few  shots 
that  hit  close  about  him,  and  then  the  bowlders  hid  him 
from  their  view.  All  they  could  do  was  wait  and  listen 
until  somebody  should  tell  them  he  had  reached  their 
stricken  comrade,  and  then,  shame-faced,  Mullins  begged 
leave  to  go.  "  Stay  where  you  are,"  said  Dolan,  "  and 
shoot  low.  You've  got  the  down-hill  side." 

It  was  then  that  Dunn  and  Tracy,  perched  among  the 
bowlders  at  the  back,  with  orders  to  keep  down  the  fire 
from  that  quarter  and  check  any  attempt  to  rush  them, 
shouted  warning  to  the  little  party  under  the  ledge. 
"  Watch  out,  fellers !  They're  sneaking  on  him  from 
down  there  at  the  road ! "  Then  indeed  was  the  peril 
double,  for,  even  as  Fane  was  hidden  by  the  rocks  that 
strewed  the  hillside,  so  were  the  Indians  who  sought  to 


46  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

creep  forward.  From  the  clump  of  cedars  both  parties 
were  now  invisible.  Carbine  in  hand,  Scott  hastily  swung 
himself  aloft  and  flattened  out  like  a  squirrel  on  the  upper 
level. 

"  I  see  them,"  he  cried  in  eager  triumph ;  crammed 
a  cartridge  into  his  "  Sharp,"  took  long  and  steady  aim, 
then  fired.  The  bullet  went  spat  against  the  face  of  a 
rock  not  a  foot  from  a  white-turbaned,  swarthy  head 
barely  protruding,  and  the  head  popped  instantly  out  of 
sight.  There  was  momentary  check  to  the  approach  from 
the  roadway,  then  the  storm  from  right  and  left  burst 
thrillingly  on  Scott.  Down  he  came  with  sputter  and 
slide  and  nervous  laugh,  but  conscious  of  work  well  done, 
a  diversion  in  favor  of  his  young  chief. 

And  then,  all  on  a  sudden,  burst  from  Mullins's  lips  a 
cry  of  mingled  triumph,  admiration  and  dread.  "  My 
God,  boys ;  look  at  him !  "  And  there,  full  seventy  yards 
away,  with  young  Hayden's  left  arm  drawn  down  over  the 
broad  blue  shoulder,  with  Hayden  hanging  helpless  on  his 
back,  half  dead,  yet  conscious  of  the  fearful  danger,  Fane 
staggered  into  view,  bending  almost  double,  but  rushing 
from  one  rock  to  another  in  the  desperate  hope  of  carry 
ing  his  shrieking  burden  through  unscathed.  In  the  tor 
ture  of  splintered  bone  and  lacerated  flesh  and  sinew,  in 
the  terror  of  seeing  or  hearing  swift-darting  missiles 
about  and  on  every  side,  the  poor  lad  could  not  suppress 
his  cries.  Just  as  a  moment  before  he  was  imploring  aid, 
so  now  he  was  madly  begging :  "  Put  me  down !  I  can't 


A    NOBLE    RESCUE  47 

stand  it !  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  put  me  down !  They'll  kill 
us  both!" 

But  all  unheeding,  relentless,  grimly  determined,  Fane 
came  plunging  on,  and  every  man  within  the  refuge  lifted 
up  his  voice  in  cheer  or  prayer  or  even  execration.  Every 
carbine  barked  its  blazing  answer  to  the  Indian  fire. 

Once,  not  forty  yards  away,  Fane  stumbled,  and  down 
went  carrier  and  carried  upon  their  faces  in  the  sand. 
But  the  young  athlete  was  up  in  an  instant.  Again  was 
Hayden  seized  and  swung  to  the  strong  young  back.  Once 
again  down  they  went,  this  time  by  design,  between  two 
rocks  where  there  was  at  least  partial  shelter.  Then 
came  the  supreme  moment,  the  last  effort,  and  now,  do  or 
die, — there  was  an  open  space  of  over  forty  feet  that  must 
^be  crossed  at  the  run.  They  saw  him  moisten  his  lips 
^once  more  from  the  battered  and  dripping  canteen;  saw 
I  the  despair  and  agony  in  Hayden's  woeful  face;  then, 
once  again,  deaf  to  cry  or  entreaty,  Fane  slung  him  to  his 
shoulder,— that  broken,  bleeding  leg  flapping  and  dan 
gling  about  the  slender,  sinewy  limbs.  "  Now,  give  'em 
hell,  men !  "  they  heard  Dolan  shout,  and  every  eye  had 
to  turn  in  search  of  pursuers  or  peering,  cruel  faces  sight 
ing  over  the  surrounding  rocks.  Then  with  a  rush  on 
came  Fane  again,  and  pandemonium  broke  loose  in  Tonto 
Pass,  for  all  the  fiends  of  the  infernal  regions  seemed  out 
for  a  howling  holiday.  Half,— two-thirds  the  way,  de 
spite  hurtling  arrow  and  hissing  lead,  despite  splintering 
rock  or  scattering  sand,  the  daring  fellow  bore  his  sense- 


48  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

less  load,  for  pain  and  terror  had  done  their  work  at  last 
and  Hayden  had  fainted.  Then  down  once  more  went 
Fane,  still  short  pistol  shot  from  friends  and  refuge,  and 
then  they  saw  that  his  exertions  had  been  too  much  for 
the  restraining  plaster,  that  the  blood  from  his  torn  fore 
head  was  blinding  him  again.  He  drew  his  flannel  sleeve 
across  and  swept  it  for  the  instant  aside,  grasped  again 
his  almost  lifeless  burden,  and  plunged  dizzily  ahead, 
stumbled  a  third  time,  some  low  outcrop  snaring  the  moc- 
casined  foot,  yet  caught  himself  and  staggered  on;  and 
at  last — God  only  knows  who  turned  aside  those  jagged, 
hissing,  death-dealing  missiles — dropped  all  in  a  heap  at 
the  foot  of  the  cedars,  and  was  dragged  in  by  eager  hands, 
lifted  in  by  stalwart  arms,  and  borne  beneath  the  shelter 
ing  ledge,  gasping  for  breath,  exhausted,  yet  victorious, 
for  there,  too,  lay  Hayden,  white  and  limp,  senseless,  but 
safe  for  the  day  at  least,  with  Scott  dripping  whiskey 
down  his  thankless  gullet. 

"  Yell  all  you  like,  you  murthering  devils !  "  cried  old 
Dolan,  his  voice  all  broken  with  strain  and  emotion,  "  but 
we've  got  'em  safe  and  sound,  and  you'll  never  see  the 
chance  again ! " 


CHAPTER    III 

ONLY     JUST     IN     TIME 

THEN  came  a  night  no  survivor  of  that  episode, 
the  siege  of  Tonto  Pass,  has  ever  been  able  to 
forget.  The  last  drop  of  water  was  gone  by 
sunset,  the  last  scrap  of  bacon  or  hardtack  long  since  de 
voured.  It  was  too  dark  for  those  of  the  besiegers  who 
would  have  been  glad  to  steal  in  upon  the  suffering  party. 
It  was  too  light  for  any  of  the  besieged  to  venture  down 
in  search  of  water.  Three  of  the  wounded  became  deli 
rious  before  midnight.  All  of  the  defenders  were  worn 
and  well-nigh  exhausted.  It  was  a  mercy  that  the 
Apache  is  a  coward  when  he  cannot  clearly  see  his 
way. 

Just  before  dawn  there  had  come  a  gleam  of  hope,  a 
drop  of  comfort.  The  moon  had  sunk  behind  the  Matitzal. 
The  signal  fires  that  had  been  burning  far  to  the  west 
across  the  Coyotero  died  out  before  twelve,  and  others 
appeared  ten  or  twelve  miles  to  the  north.  Between  the 
Tonto  tanks  and  the  east,  the  direction  in  which  lay  the 
reservation  and  the  fort,  rose  the  high,  rugged  range  that 
stretched  for  many  a  league,  a  barrier  between  the  spark 
ling,  swift-rushing  stream  they  had  crossed  with  their 
prisoners  now  thirty-six  hours  agone  and  the  broad  valley 

49 


50  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  more  sluggish  current  of  the  Salado,  a  good  day's 
march  to  the  east.  Signals  from  the  reservation  could  not 
be  seen  on  the  west  side  of  the  Pass,  but  somebody  was 
signaling  to  Dolan,  signaling  something  those  vagabonds 
about  them  should  know  without  fail,  for  they  were  being 
repeated  from  a  high  point  across  the  Coyotero  Valley 
whence  both  the  bold  crest  of  Sombrero  Peak,  the  Apache 
signal  tower,  and  the  westward  face  of  the  Tonto  Range 
could  readily  be  seen.  "Those  signals,"  said  Dolan, 
"  like  as  anything  mean  '  Look  out !— Soldiers  coming ! '  " 
Like  as  not  they  meant  that  Lafferty  had  managed  to 
reach  the  post,  give  warning  of  their  plight,  and  Captain 
Turner,  with  lots  of  the  boys,  was  already  in  march  to 
relieve  them.  It  was  a  cheering  faith,  at  all  events,  and 
did  much  to  bolster  heart  and  courage  through  the  dismal 
hours  before  the  dawn.  The  drop  of  comfort  came 
through  little  Sutton.  Inspired  by  his  commander's  dar 
ing,  and  determined  to  make  amends  for  his  own 
weakness,  Sutton,  too,  had  won  his  spurs  and  the  blessing 
of  his  fellows. 

Thrice  during  the  late  afternoon  he  had  noted  that 
certain  mountain  birds,  twittering  and  hovering  over 
the  tanks  now  held  by  the  Apaches,  came  flying  up 
the  slope,  and  every  time  had  dropped  at  the  same  spot 
among  the  bowlders,  somewhere  about  pistol  shot  away 
to  the  west  of  the  cedars,  yet  well  within  the  encircling 
lines.  '''  They  daren't  get  water  at  the  usual  place,"  he 
argued.  :t  They  know  some  hole  in  the  rocks  up  here." 


ONLY    JUST    IN    TIME  51 

Warm,  stagnant,  lifeless  pool  of  rock-basin  rainwater 
though  it  might  be,  it  was  priceless  if  only  they  could 
reach  it.  Sutton  whispered  his  theories  to  Dolan,  grimly 
keeping  watch  and  ward  while  Fane,  for  a  while,  slept 
the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  Dolan  whispered  back  it  was 
worth  the  trial.  With  three  big,  felt-covered  canteens 
strapped  to  his  shoulders,  his  revolver  in  his  belt  and  his 
boy  heart  in  his  mouth,  the  youngster  crept  cautiously 
down  in  the  shadow  of  the  cedars,  then  wormed  himself 
along  on  his  belly  through  the  soft,  warm  sand,  past  rock 
and  bowlder  and  greasewood  clump,  until  he  came  to  a 
hollow  perhaps  twenty  feet  wide,  and  down  in  this  dip  on 
the  westward  slope  were  stony  basins,  three  or  four,  and 
in  two  of  these,  beneath  overhanging  rock,  something  was 
gleaming.  Water!  water! — God  be  thanked!  And  in 
trembling  eagerness  he  shuffled  down,  stooped,  drank  his 
fill — drank  till  he  could  drink  no  more — then  noiselessly 
uncorked  and  sank  his  canteens,  noting  with  sorrow  that 
after  filling  the  three  he  had  well-nigh  emptied  the  first 
and  deepest  of  the  two  receptacles.  Then  back  he 
crouched  with  his  priceless  treasure,  and  in  three  minutes 
more  parched  tongues  and  fevered  lips  were  praising  him. 
Two  more  expeditions  made  the  boy,  unseen,  unheard, 
unmolested,  of  their  foe,  and  then,  though  still  there  was 
need,  there  lived  no  warrant  for  another  trip — the  last 
drop  had  been  sponged  up  and  squeezed  into  the  last  can 
teen.  Blessed  relief  and  comfort  it  brought  indee'd,  but 
all  was  gone  by  noon  of  that  second  day,  even  that  por- 


52  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

tion  hoarded  for  the  wounded  men,  and  by  early  afternoon 
the  torment  was  again  upon  them. 

Whatever  the  meaning  of  the  signal  fires,  there  had 
been  nothing  as  yet  in  the  conduct  of  the  siege  to  warrant 
the  belief  that  the  Apaches  were  in  any  wise  disturbed. 
Knowing  as  they  did  that  the  only  food  of  the  besieged 
was  the  handful  of  hardtack  or  bacon  they  had  seized 
from  the  packs  before  the  rush  for  the  cedars ;  knowing 
that  they  must  be  suffering  sorely  for  want  of  water,  and 
hearing  from  time  to  time  the  sweet  music  of  the  cries  of 
the  delirious  wounded,  the  savage  warriors  were  appar 
ently  biding  their  time  and  taking  no  chances.  Those 
about  the  tank,  it  was  true,  had  crawled  across  the  road, 
and  as  many  as  thirty  or  more  had  established  themselves 
among  the  bowlders  down  the  slope,  interposing  between 
the  coveted  water  and  the  craving  garrison  of  the  little 
fort.  Others,  too,  had  been  having  a  merry  time  among 
the  slaughtered  horses  and  mules,  emptying  saddle-bags, 
flour,  sugar,  and  coffee  sacks,  and  gorging  themselves,  the 
first  in  possession,  with  beans  and  bacon  and  hardtack. 
But  all  the  time  there  were  a  dozen  or  more  of  their  best 
marksmen  keeping  vigilant  watch  on  every  side,  sending 
in  a  spiteful  shot  whenever  hat  or  hand  of  the  besieged 
Thowed  above  the  rock  parapets  they  had  piled  up  during 
the  night.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  poor  Murray 
was  dying,  and  Doyle  sinking  fast.  Higgins  was  tossing 
and  moaning  in  feverish  torment.  Fuller  lay  with  ghastly 
face,  biting  into  the  flesh  of  his  forearm  to  stifle  the 


ONLY    JUST    IN    TIME  53 

groans  that  agony  would  have  wrung  from  him.  Poor 
young  Hayden  by  turns  dreamed  deliriously  or  woke  to 
full  consciousness  of  his  increasing  pain  and  their  immi 
nent  peril.  He  was  beginning  to  realize  what  he  had  es 
caped  when,  in  awe-stricken  tones,  Mullins,  posted  as 
lookout  toward  the  south,  announced,  "  My  God,  fellers, 
they've  found  Sinclair's  body.  Hear  'em  screeching."  It 
was  true.  Creeping  stealthily  forward,  sheltered  by  the 
rocks  and  secure  against  sortie,  three  or  four  of  the  most 
venturesome  had  at  last  come  upon  the  lifeless  form,  and 
had  proceeded,  after  their  kind  and  custom,  to  make  the 
most  of  their  opportunity.  Their  shouts  and  shrieks  of 
rejoicing  attracted  others  to  the  spot,  and  tempted  one 
young  brave  beyond  his  covert,  when  Mullins  stretched 
him  with  a  well-aimed  shot.  But  all  the  same  the  revelry 
went  on.  Presently  a  blood-dripping  shirt  was  waved  in 
triumph  over  the  rocks.  Then  Sinclair's  riding  trousers 
were  swung  and  flourished.  Then,  presently,  an  awful 
sight, — a  human  head  was  tossed  in  air  and  thrown  about, 
and  finally  set  up,  staring  with  sightless  eyes  from  the 
highest  bowlder.  It  sickened  Mullins,  and  he  cowered  at 
the  foot  of  the  parapet.  "  There's  where  you'd  a  been, 
Hayden/'  he  sobbed,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
lieutenant !  " 

The  situation  was  becoming  unbearable.  Up  the  pass, 
to  the  east,  only  at  one  point  was  it  possible  to  see  the 
road.  From  that  direction,  said  they  all,  must  rescue 
come  if  it  were  coming,  and  Dolan's  haggard  eyes  again 


54  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  again  turned  thither,  for  again  it  was  his  watch,  while 
Fane,  who  had  waked  most  of  the  night  and  all  the  morn 
ing,  and  Scott,  his  helper,  sought  what  sleep  it  was  pos 
sible  to  find.  Little  Sutton,  flat  on  his  stomach,  his 
boy  face  buried  in  his  arms,  was  lying  in  some  fitful 
dream. 

An  arrow,  glancing  from  the  rock  above  and  deflected 
downward,  had  torn  through  his  hatbrim  and  ripped  a 
furrow  down  his  shoulder  blade,  adding  to  his  earlier 
pangs  and  nervous  unrest.  The  shrill  clamour  down  the 
slope  roused  the  young  commander,  and  sitting  up,  he 
swept  aside  the  bandages  that  Scott  had  renewed,  and 
peering  through  the  cedars  saw  between  him  and  the 
abandoned  tanks  the  grewsome  trophy  of  Apache  prowess. 
Weak  and  weary  though  he  was,  it  stirred  his  heart  to 
wrath — to  swift  and  vengeful  action.  They  saw  him 
stretch  forth  his  hand  for  a  carbine  that  lay  at  the  little 
parapet,  but  old  Dolan  spoke : 

"Will  the  lieutenant  look?"  he  said,  and,  without 
another  word,  turned  and  his  extended  arm  directed 
Fane's  glance  to  the  stark  form  of  Murray,  the  dead  face 
covered  by  a  stained  neckerchief — to  still  another  from 
which  the  last  spark  of  life  had  but  that  moment  fled,  poor 
Doyle,  whose  eyes  the  corporal  was  striving  gently  to 
close  and  could  not,  for  the  tears  that  blinded  his  own — to 
the  writhing  form  and  clinching  hands  of  Hayden  and 
Fuller,  both  burning  now  with  fever,  to  little  Sutton  hid 
ing  his  face  in  vain  efforts  to  hide  his  suffering.  Fane 


ONLY   JUST    IN    TIME  55 

saw  what  was  meant, — saw  it  in  the  drawn  features  and 
haggard,  pleading  eyes  before  Dolan  ventured  to  speak 
again :  "  We  can't  let  the  lieutenant  risk  anything  now, 
sir,  when  we've  lost  so  much  already." 

"  Then  may  God  bring  us  relief,"  was  the  murmured 
prayer,  unheard  among  the  heights  of  the  Sierras,  yet 
answered  from  on  High.  There  came  a  hail  from  the 
lookout  post  to  the  northward,  and  Dolan  signed  to  Mul- 
lins  to  see  what  was  needed.  The  Irish  trooper  was  back 
in  an  instant,  his  eyes  blazing  with  hope.  "  Lootn't ! 
Lootn't !  "  he  cried.  "  There's  somethin'  comin' — God 
knows  what — only  the  Injuns  are  lighting  out !  " 

Then  those  northward  signals,  those  beacon  lights  on 
the  jagged  cliffs  of  the  Matitzal,  meant  something  after 
all, — something  the  Apaches  might  wisely  have  earlier 
heeded.  "  Lighting  out  "  they  were  indeed  !  Far  down 
the  sunset  slope  of  the  range,  five  and  six  hundred  yards 
away,  the  lithe  forms,  with  their  flapping  clouts  of  dingy 
white,  could  be  seen  at  intervals  scurrying  toward  the 
roadway  in  the  ravine.  Glancing  eastward  in  response  to 
the  excited  shout,  "  Look  yonder !  There's  more  of  'em !  " 
Fane  could  see  still  other  dusky  shapes  gliding  noiselessly 
among  the  bowlders,  all  heading  southward.  They  had 
ceased  their  fire,  too.  It  seemed  as  though  they  were 
striving  to  escape  from  some  swift-coming  force,  giving 
no  sound  to  guide  the  pursuit.  Then  what  the  enemy 
dreaded  the  enemy  should  get,  was  Fane's  instant  and  im 
pulsive  decision,  though  well  he  knew  there  were  in  all 


56  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

their  belts  perhaps  not  thirty  cartridges  left.  He  was 
ablaze  with  excitement,  enthusiasm,  lust  for  vengeance 
now — he  who  had  been  so  cool,  calculating,  and  deter 
mined  but  the  day  before.  The  fever  of  his  hurts  had 
burned  into  his  blood.  The  hot  rage  of  battle  was  again 
in  his  soul,  and  it  was  a  sudden  word  from  Mullins  that 
swept  for  the  moment  sense  and  judgment  from  his  brain. 
"  My  God,  fellows,  can't  we  get  after  those  blackguards 
that  chopped  up  Sinclair?  "  One  look  southward  showed 
that  ghastly  head,  still  mutely  staring  at  them  in  the  glare 
of  the  slanting  sunshine. 

"  We'll  do  it !  "  cried  Fane,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  Come 
on !  "  And  never  heeding,  never  hearing,  perhaps,  Do- 
lan's  restraining  plea,  never  thinking  now  of  personal  risk 
or  possible  ambush,  the  young  officer,  followed  by  four  or 
five  still  active  and  uninjured  men,  carbines  in  hand,  went 
bounding  down  the  slope.  "  My  God,"  moaned  the  ser 
geant.  "  It  may  be  only  a  trick,  and  we  haven't  five  shots 
left  apiece !  "  And  still  he,  too,  found  his  feet  and  went 
reeling  after  them. 

With  a  yell  of  vengeance  and  fury,  the  little  party 
dashed  straight  as  the  rocks  would  permit  toward  that 
dead  yet  summoning  mask.  Four  seconds  took  them 
forty  feet  on  their  way.  Then  suddenly,  down  went  the 
bloody,  sightless  head,  jerked  from  behind;  some  savage 
Apache,  even  in  flight,  seeking  to  take  his  fearful  trophy 
with  him.  Then  a  dark  form  appeared  one  instant,  fifty 
yards  ahead,  and  three  carbines  barked  almost  in  unison, 


ONLY   JUST   IN    TIME  57 

and  missed.  But  on  rushed  the  shouting  troopers.  Back 
came  the  answering  shout,  and  almost  before  they  knew 
it,  they  were  once  again  halfway  down  the  slope,  again 
the  center  of  at  least  a  partially  encircling,  if  hurried  and 
ill-aimed  fire.  One  Indian,  and  only  one,  they  felled  close 
to  the  bowlder  where  lay  the  poor  butchered  remnants; 
where  lay,  too,  the  severed  head ;  but  by  this  time  reason 
had  resumed  her  sway  and  Fane's  wits  were  again  about 
him.  "  Halt  and  kneel !  "  he  shouted.  "  Hold  your  shots 
until  you  see  an  Indian ! "  and  even  as  he  glanced  about 
him  to  enforce  his  order,  before  himself  seeking  shelter, 
a  sudden  numbness  seized  his  left  arm,  a  sudden  gush  of 
blood  soaked  the  blue  flannel  sleeve.  Something  had  torn 
through  the  bone  only  just  below  the  shoulder  and,  broken 
short  off,  the  now  useless  member  dangled  dripping  at 
his  side.  , 

Oh,  well  for  Fane  and  his  raging  followers  that  it  was 
no  mere  Indian  trick  to  lure  them  forth,  then  surround 
and  finish  them !  Oh,  well  for  him  and  his  that  the  mur 
mured  prayer  had  indeed  been  answered  from  on  High ! 
Even  as  he  crouched  behind  the  granite  bowlder,  half  dis 
posed  to  curse  his  boyish  folly,  the  exultant  shout  came 
ringing  from  the  cedars :  "  It's  the  captain,  fellers— the 

captain  and  the  hull  d d  caboodle  !      Hurray !  "     If 

confirmation  were  needed  they  could  find  it  in  the  sound 
of  distant  shots,  of  distant  cheering,  in  the  sight  of  stream 
ing  breechclouts  down  the  southward  slope  and  across  the 
road.  Only  a  few  more  missiles,  mere  Parthian  arrows, 


58  THE   MEDAL    OF   HONOR 

came  whizzing  and  hurtling  back,  unaimed,  unnoted,  and 
their  tormentors  of  the  two  long  nights  and  days  were 
fast  scurrying  out  of  range,  and  then  from  a  distance, 
with  beady,  hate-burning  eyes,  watching  the  reunion  of 
soldier  comrades,  rescued  and  rescuers,  among  the  bloody 
sands  and  burning  rocks  of  Tonto  Pass. 


CHAPTER  IV 

NIGHT    SIGNALS    FROM    THE    AGENCY 

TOUCHING  that  matter  of  the  relief  and  rescue 
of  Lieutenant  Fane's  command,  there  was  much 
misunderstanding  at  the  time,  and  much  mis- 
statement  afterwards,  in  which,  as  finally  established  by 
patient  and  impartial  investigation,  "  Quid  Spigots  "  had 
led  off  with  magnificent,  though  as  he  would  have  it, 
unconscious  mendacity. 

Lafferty  had  succeeded,  after  much  peril,  some  suffer 
ing,  and  more  delay,  in  reaching  the  fort  in  the  dead  of 
night — the  second  night  after  his  morning  start  in  the 
starlight.  From  the  sentry  at  the  stables  he  learned  that 
Captain  Turner,  with  two  subalterns  and  all  the  available 
cavalry  at  the  post,  had  been  sent  forth  by  the  major  com 
manding  to  gather  in,  coax  and  bring  back  the  refugees 
from  the  reservation,  for  whom,  indeed,  the  major  was 
responsible,  and  of  whom  an  astute  agent  declared,  "  They 
are  simply  frightened  away  by  the  threats  and  bullyings 
of  the  soldiers  of  the  guard."  And  "  Spigots  "  professed 
to  believe  him. 

Turner  had  been  gone  forty-eight  hours  when  Lafferty 
arrived.  Turner  had  theories  of  his  own  as  to  whether 
the  renegades  were  drawn  or  driven,  but  he  wisely  sup- 

59 


60  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

pressed  them  until  beyond  probability  of  recall  to  the  post. 
Then  he  took  his  officers  and  certain  sergeants  into  his 
confidence.  He  also  took  another  trail.  Southwest  from 
the  San  Carlos  had  the  Indians  flitted  to  Tonto  Pass, 
where  they  concentrated  along  the  road  to  Danger  Canon. 
Southwestward  from  the  post,  and  until  well  beyond 
Sombrero  Peak,  Turner  obediently  followed  his  instruc 
tions — and  the  same  road.  Then,  halting  for  a  few  hours 
to  rest  and  bait  his  men  and  horses,  he  bade  one  of  the 
most  trustworthy  non-commissioned  officers  to  take  the 
binocular  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  signal  fires  any 
where  about  the  Peak,  now  several  miles  to  their  right 
rear;  also  for  answering  signals  from  the  opposite  and 
more  distant  range  to  the  west.  This  done,  Turner  com 
posed  himself  to  sleep.  Three  hours  later  he  was  up  and 
listening  with  all  apparent  gravity  to  Sergeant  Hickey's 
report,  and  Hickey  was  a  regimental  celebrity. 

"  Two  fires  at  the  Peak,  sorr,  and  two  way  up  yonder 
in  the  Sierra." 

"  Sure,  sergeant  ?  "  asked  Turner.  "  We  may  have  to 
swear  to  it." 

"  Sure,  sorr ;  swear  to  it  on  a  stack  of  bibles — if  the 
captain  says  so." 

"  Sure,"  he  muttered  to  himself  and  to  others  of  his 
coterie,  a  moment  later,  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  and 
a  wink  in  his  eye.  "  Sure  as  I  know  Corp-ril  Gribble  was 
sint  to  start  'em  at  the  Peak  leastwise, — an'  that  was 
enough  to  start  'em  all  over  the  Sierra." 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     61 

"  Sierra  be  d d,  Hickey!  "  laughed  Sergeant  Wells. 

"  Did  you  see  e'er  a  blaze  northwest  of  Sombrero — where 
the  ould  man  pointed?"  And  Wells  was  beginning  to 
see  why  Gribble,  with  three  followers,  had  been  sent  off  to 
the  right  front  ten  hours  earlier,  when  the  Peak  loomed 
due  west. 

"  Why  wouldn't  I,  Wells,  wid  Collins  an'  his  hand  glass 
glintin'  into  the  big  end  of  the  binocular?  "  and  there  was 
a  shout  from  his  listeners. 

Now,  Turner's  orders  read :  "  Follow  the  trail  of  the 
Indians  reported  to  have  taken  the  road  through  Tonto 
Pass,  unless  there  should  be  indications  that  they  have 
crossed  the  Salado  and  are  making  for  the  Matitzal." 
But  Turner's  long  experience  in  Apache  land  had  taught 
him  that  to  follow  on  that  trail  meant  simply  to  keep  an 
overwhelming  band  of  warriors, — actuated  by  some  sud 
den  and  vehement  impulse, — between  him  and  the  little 
detachment  earlier  sent  forth  under  Fane.  Turner  knew 
that  Fane  would  probably  seek  to  return  by  the  Pass,  that 
he  would  therefore  stand  every  chance  of  being  held  up 
somewhere  between  the  Coyotero — where  he  had  been 
warned  not  to  stop — and  the  crest  of  the  Sierra.  The  In 
dians  had  abundant  force,  not  only  to  surround  Fane,  but 
to  render  that  Pass  impassable  to  Turner,  even  though 
Turner  had  eighty  men.  There  was  just  one  way,  in  his 
judgment,  to  reach  his  lieutenant,  and  then,  from  the  west, 
to  turn  on  the  renegades  and  drive,  not  coax,  them  back. 
That  way  was  to  quit  the  road — in  fine,  to  disregard  the 


62  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

major's  injunction  to  keep  his  command  ever  as  a  screen 
between  the  hostiles  in  the  Sierra  and  the  little  garrison 
at  the  post.  The  old  trail  to  the  Tonto  Creek  and  Wild 
Rye  country  led  northwest  from  the  nearby  crossing  of 
the  Salado.  Now,  if  only  "  indications  "  of  some  kind 
could  be  discovered  warranting  the  theory  that  the  bulk 
of  the  Indians  had  turned  that  way,  after  reaching  the 
Sierra,  there  might  be  plain  sailing.  Therefore  the  halt 
to  rest  and  reconnoiter.  Therefore  the  doubled  fires  at 
the  Peak.  Therefore  Sergeant  Hickey's  report  that  an 
swering  signals  had  been  discovered  up  the  range, 
and  that  he  had  not  seen  one  to  the  south  and  south 
west. 

"  Why  would  I,"  grinned  Hickey,  later,  "  wid  Collin's 
caubeen  between  the  Sierra  an'  the  spy  glass  ?  " 

By  dawn,  therefore,  the  second  full  day  out,  Turner, 
with  four  score  seasoned  troopers  had,  all  unopposed, 
pierced  the  range  ten  miles  north  of  Tonto  Pass,  had 
reached  the  Coyotero  slope,  and  then  turning  sharp  to  the 
southward,  made  his  way  toward  the  scene  of  Fane's 
desperate  fight  for  life,  and  got  there,  indeed,  not  one 
moment  too  soon. 

With  what  followed  afield  this  story  has  little  to  do. 
Leaving  a  surgeon,  a  small  guard,  and  abundant  supplies 
with  the  rescued,  and  giving  himself  barely  time  for 
words,  either  of  congratulation  or  commiseration,  the  cap 
tain  pushed  on  after  the  Apaches,  most  of  them  only  too 
glad  by  this  time  to  hark  back  to  shelter  and  something  to 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     63 

eat.  Dr.  Evans  gathered  up  the  wounded  officers  and 
troopers,  had  them  borne  down  to  the  tanks  for  temporary 
relief,  and  by  nightfall  saw  them  all  in  a  bivouac  a  mile 
farther  on,  where  a  spring-fed  brook  came  rushing  down 
the  rocks,  and  there  had  they  to  remain  and  rest  in  the 
pure  mountain  air  until  litters  could  be  made  and  pack 
mules  spared  and  sent  back  from  Turner's  command. 

Meanwhile  there  was  tribulation  at  the  fort.  "  Old 
Spigots  "  was  manifestly  in  the  throes  of  blue  funk.  On 
the  one  hand  he  feared  an  Indian  assault  on  the  post ;  on 
the  other  a  general  raking  over  from  the  department  and 
division  commanders.  The  worst  outbreak  of  years  had 
occurred  right  here  within  his  martial  bailiwick,  and  he 
had  done  nothing  to  prevent  it. 

True,  he  had  had  scant  word  of  warning.  The  first 
news  of  trouble  came  through  stampeded  prospectors.  It 
was  their  account  of  the  deviltry  beyond  Danger  Canon 
that,  mentally  discounted  about  fifty  per  cent.,  induced 
him  to  order  out  a  half  troop,  and  later  to  cut  that  down 
to  a  lieutenant  and  twenty  men.  It  was  not  until  two 
days  after  Fane's  departure  that  vigorous  cross-question 
ing  of  the  agent  developed  the  fact  that  perhaps  a  dozen 
young  braves  had  been  gone  a  week,  overstaying  their 
hunting  pass. 

It  was  not  until  Fane  had  been  gone  five  days  that 
official  confirmation  was  given  to  rumors  of  a  hubbub 
at  the  Agency.  It  was  not  until  the  sixth  day  that 
Spigots  was  appealed  to  by  the  agent  to  recover  his 


64  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

lost  children,  who  to  the  number  of  two  hundred  or  more, 
as  now  admitted,  had  fled  to  the  westward  mountains  "  in 
terror  of  the  soldiery  on  guard/;  The  agent  did  not  even 
then  confide  to  the  major  commanding  that  runners  had 
come  with  news  of  a  fight  with  Fane's  party  and  the  cap 
ture  of  "  big  chief  "  Solalay.  Turner  and  his  four  score 
men  were  out  of  reach  beyond  Sombrero  Peak  when  at 
last  that  story  was  communicated,  and  the  soul  of  Major 
Spigots  overflowed  in  rejoicing  and  the  composition 
of  a  despatch,  sent  within  the  hour  to  the  commanding 
officer  at  Camp  Sandy,  seventy-five  miles  to  the  north 
west. 

Sandy  was  regimental  headquarters,  Colonel  Pelham  in 
command.  Sandy  had  sent  forth  scout  after  scout,  some 
times  invading  what  Spigots's  jealousy  held  to  be  his  own 
territory.  Sandy  had  accomplished  much  and  Sandy's 
crack  scout  leaders,  men  like  Major  Stannard,  Captain 
Tanner,  and  Lieutenant  Ray,  had  hit  the  Apaches  time 
and  again,  winning  the  thanks  and  praise  of  the  general 
commanding  the  department  and  no  end  of  credit  for  their 
post  and  regiment.  Spigots,  the  senior  major,  mortally 
jealous  of  Stannard  and  envious  of  his  colonel,  had  failed 
to  utilize  certain  opportunities;  had  been  inferentially 
criticised  for  lack  of  energy,  and  not  infrequently  referred 
to  as  not  only  cold  blooded  but  "  cold  footed,"  and  "  cold 
feet "  in  the  army  sense  is  a  state  or  condition  in  no  wise 
dependent  on  the  temperature  of  the  vital  fluid  or  discov 
erable  by  the  clinical  thermometer.  Pelham's  people  would 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     65 

have  given  half  their  worldly  possessions  to  capture 
Solalay.  It  would  cap  the  climax  of  their  brilliant 
exploits. 

They  had  tried  time  and  again  without  success.  It  had 
remained  for  him,  Spigots,  the  weak  brother,  the  inert,  to 
secure  the  richest  prize,  and  therefore  to  expect  the  chief 
reward  of  the  entire  campaign  as  the  virtual  captor  of  the 
most  dreaded  Indian  in  the  game,  and  Spigots  almost 
shouted  aloud  in  the  joy  that  possessed  him  when  he 
reflected  that,  through  Pelham  himself,  the  announce 
ment  must  reach  Department  Headquarters. 

By  swift  and  oft-tried  runner  his  despatch  should  go 
forthwith.  Toyah,  who  knew  every  trail  of  the  Tonto 
Basin  and  the  Black  Mesa — Toyah,  to  whom  Hardscrab- 
ble  and  the  deep  gorges  of  the  East  Fork  and  Granite 
Creek  were  but  crevices  in  the  face  of  the  land — Toyah 
who  had  guided  General  Crook,  the  Gray  Fox,  all  over 
the  territory  east  of  the  Hassayampa  and  had  borne  his 
messages  at  tireless  dogtrot  sixty  miles  a  day — Toyah 
could  be  counted  on  to  place  that  despatch  in  Pelham's 
hands  before  the  setting  of  the  second  sun.  Pelham 
would  send  his  courier,  loping  by  night  through  Cherry 
Creek  and  the  Agua  Fria,  landing  the  precious  missive 
at  Crook's  headquarters  by  sunrise,  so  that  within  forty- 
eight  hours  the  glad  tidings  should  be  trumpeted  about 
Prescott  and  Whipple  Barracks,  and  he,  Spigots,  be 
hailed  as  the  man  of  the  hour,  the  successful  general  of 
the  long  campaign. 


66  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

And  that  document  was  almost  as  modest  as  it  was 
misleading : 

ADJUTANT  GENERAL, 

HEADQUARTERS  DEPARTMENT  OF  ARIZONA: 
Sir:  I  have  the  honor  to  report  that  on  the  6th  instant  I 
received  notification  that  hostile  Indians  were  raiding  to  the 
west  of  Danger  Canon;  that  they  had  murdered  several  pros 
pectors  and  the  occupants  of  Hogan's  Ranch.  Although  Camp 
McDowell  is  much  nearer  the  scene  of  these  outrages,  I  deemed 
it  my  duty  to  send  cavalry  in  that  direction  for  the  purpose  of 
intercepting  and  arresting  participants  who,  in  fear  of  meeting 
strong  force  from  McDowell,  would  probably  seek  refuge  in  the 
Sierra  Ancha.  The  fact  that  Solalay  had  been  reported  in  the 
Verde  Valley  was  another  incentive,  and  it  is  with  gratifica 
tion  that  I  am  able  to  report  that,  through  the  energy  of  the 
cavalry  commands  acting  under  my  orders,  Solalay  himself, 
with  several  members  of  his  family,  has  been  captured  alive, 
after  a  sharp  engagement  in  Danger  Canon,  and  is  now  on  the 
way  to  this  post  under  secure  guard.  The  information  conies 
through  the  agency  itself,  where  intense  excitement  has  pre 
vailed  for  twenty-four  hours  past.  Captain  Turner  is  still 
afield,  with  his  entire  command,  but  will  be  recalled,  as  the  In 
dian  agent  thinks  it  possible  that  an  attack  in  force  may  follow 
in  the  hope  of  releasing  this  hitherto  intractable  chief  and  leader. 
I  am  sending  this  by  runner  via  Camp  Sandy,  and  will  add 
further  particulars  as  soon  as  it  is  possible  to  do  so. 
Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

JOHN  S.  PIGGOTT, 
Major  — th  Cavalry  Commanding. 

"  There,"  said  Spigots  to  his  silent  adjutant,  as  the 
clerk  finished  the  copies,  "  that  will  forestall  any  story 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     67 

about  the  stampede  from  the  reservation!  Let  Toyah 
start  at  once,  with  orders  to  make  Sandy  before  sunset 
to-morrow."  The  despatch  was  folded  in  oiled  silk, 
tagged  "  Commanding  officer,  Camp  Sandy,  please  read 
and  forward."  Spigots  chuckled  over  the  chagrin  Pel- 
ham  must  feel  that  all  his  efforts  to  "  nail  "  Solalay  had 
proved  abortive,  while  he,  Spigots,  had  succeeded.  "  And 
now,"  said  he,  "  we  will  send  over  to  the  Pass  for  Turner, 
and  tell  him  to  bring  in  Fane  and  the  prisoners." 

That  was  about  noon  on  the  I2th  day  of  the  month. 
Then  came  the  I3th,  the  ill-omened  date  in  the  eyes  of 
many,  especially  when  it  came,  as  it  did  this  I3th,  on  a 
Friday.  The  new  day  was  barely  ten  minutes  old,  the 
sentries  had  barely  ceased  the  midnight  call,  when  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  escorting  a  nearly  exhausted  non 
commissioned  officer  of  cavalry,  stirred  up  the  post  adju 
tant,  who  listened  to  Corporal  Lafferty's  tale  while  tug 
ging  at  his  boot  straps.  Then  they  went  and  knocked 
at  the  major's,  whereupon  Spigots  himself  appeared  at  a 
first-floor  window  (there  was  no  second),  and  listened, 
impatient. 

"  But  they  hung  onto  the  prisoners — they've  got 
Solalay?"  he  burst  in,  all  anxiety  on  that  point  at 
least. 

"  They  had  'em  up  to  the  time  I  left,  sir,"  said  Lafferty, 
"  though  I  didn't  get  to  hear  the  names  of  'em — but  un 
less  help  could  come  mighty  quick  they  couldn't  hold  'em, 
or  anything." 


68  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  Well,  you  met  Captain  Turner,  of  course,  and  warned 
him.  He  went  by  road  direct."  And  with  one  leg  in 
his  trousers  and  the  other  poised,  Spigots  breathlessly 
awaited  the  answer. 

"  I  couldn't  come  by  road,  sir.  There  was  'Patchies 
everywhere.  I  skirted  round  north  o'  Sombrero  an' 
didn't  seem  to  see  anything  but  Injuns  an'  signal  fires 
till  the  sentinel  held  me  up  at  the  haystacks." 

Major  Piggott  leaned  his  arms  against  the  window 
frame  and  buried  his  head  upon  his  arms.  "  Go  for  the 
officer-of-the-day,  sergeant,"  he  moaned  despairingly. 
"  My  God,  man !  "  he  added,  for  Lafferty's  benefit,  or  his 
own,  "  it  isn't  twelve  hours  since  I  sent  off  a  despatch  to 
say  we'd  got  Solalay  and  his  people,  and  now,  like  as  not, 
they've  got  us." 

To  this  sentiment  the  trooper  made  no  reply.  He  was 
worn,  weary,  and  hungry.  Thirst,  thanks  to  the  brim 
ming  ollas  at  the  guardhouse,  had  already  been  assuaged, 
but  there  was  still  room  for  a  comforting  nip,  and  the 
major  had  ever  a  well-filled  demijohn  from  which  the 
bearer  of  good  news  went  seldom  unrewarded.  To-night, 
however,  the  commander  was  in  anything  but  benevolent 
mood.  He  nervously  finished  his  hurried  toilet,  thinking 
far  less  of  Fane's  peril  than  of  his  own  plight.  If,  after  all, 
Fane  and  his  little  party  should  have  been  compelled  to  re 
lease  their  captives,  would  not  he  be  blamed  for  having 
sent  him  forth  with  so  small,  so  pitiably  small,  a  command ! 
And  if  Turner  should  not  have  succeeded  in  reaching  the 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     69 

besieged  in  time — and  they  should  be  annihilated — what 
wouldn't  the  general  say!  In  sore  perturbation  Piggott 
came  forth  into  the  moonlight  and,  never  noting  the  weary 
messenger,  took  his  signal  glasses  and  a  long  look  at  the 
densely  wooded  heights  far  away  to  the  northwest,  as 
though  in  search  of  tidings. 

Surely  enough.  Late  as  it  was,  a  signal  torch  was 
slowly  swinging  to  and  fro,  giving  the  call  "  Attention ! 
News !  "  and  now,  excitement  adding  to  his  worries,  Pig 
gott  turned  to  Lafferty,  who  had  seated  himself  at  the 
edge  of  the  board  walk,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  was  now  toppling  over  in  the  sleep  of 
utter  exhaustion.  "  Here,  wake  up,  man !  "  cried  the 
Major.  "  This  is  no  time  for  sleeping !  Run  and  call  the 
signal  sergeant !  Tell  him  to  bring  his  kit !  Tell  him  to 
come  like  a  shot !  "  And  as  LafTerty  stumbled  half  blindly 
away  Piggott  feverishly  resumed  his  stare  at  the  distant 
agency.  Just  as  he  feared,  there  was  a  blaze  among  the 
timber  far  up  the  range.  There  was  another  far  over  to 
the  southwest  at  the  very  apex  of  Sombrero  Peak. 

And  then  came  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  piloting  the 
officer-of-the-day,  and  in  that  officer  Piggott  knew  he 
need  look  for  neither  sympathy  nor  consolation.  A  soldier 
every  inch  of  him  was  Captain  Hazlett  of  the  Infantry 
a  man  who  held  his  tongue  and  temper  both  in  leash  and 
did  his  duty,  a  man  who  knew  more  about  the  Apache 
and  Apache  land  than  Piggott  probably  could  ever  learn. 
They  had  rubbed  each  other's  fur  the  wrong  way  from 


70  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

the  first  week  of  their  association  at  the  post.  Piggott  was 
timid,  irresolute,  vacillating.  Hazlett  was  "vigorous 
in  speech:  in  action  prompt  and  bold."  Hazlett  "had 
no  use,"  he  frankly  said,  for  the  Indian  agent  at 
the  reservation.  Piggott  was  afraid  of  him,  because 
that  functionary  of  the  Bureau  had  what  Piggott  sorely 
desired — influence.  There  had  been  controversy  between 
Hazlett  and  the  agent  over  the  latter's  injustice  to  a  ser 
geant  on  duty  with  the  agency  guard.  Piggott  decided 
in  the  agent's  favor,  and  found,  inside  of  six  days  that  he 
had  decided  wrong.  He  should  have  set  the  sergeant 
right  at  once  and  officially,  but  he  temporized  and  dodged. 
The  sergeant  had  returned  to  his  company,  hurt  and  hu 
miliated.  The  whole  command  sided  with  the  sergeant, 
but  had  to  "  side  "  in  silence.  Piggott  sought  the  support 
of  his  next  in  cavalry  rank,  Captain  Turner,  and  Turner 
told  him  frankly  that  Hazlett  had  known  that  agent  three 
long  years  before  he,  Piggott,  ever  saw  him,  and,  knowing 
Hazlett's  reputation  and  having  been  warned  as  to  that 
of  the  agent,  Piggott  should  have  known  better  than  to 
decide  as  he  did.  Then  instead  of  sending  for  both  Haz 
lett  and  his  aggrieved  sergeant  and  making  manly  repa 
ration,  the  major  sulked  in  his  tent  and  swore  there  was 
no  more  loyalty  in  the  cavalry. 

And  now  it  was  Captain  Hazlett  himself  who  came 
striding  up  the  board  walk  in  the  faint  and  silvery  moon 
light.  It  was  Sergeant  Craig,  erstwhile  of  the  agency 
guard,  who  came  bounding  over  the  acequias  that  bor- 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     71 

dered  the  parade,  followed  by  two  active  fellow  soldiers, 
bearing  their  long  torch  wands  and  the  paraphernalia  for 
night  signaling.  Not  for  a  year  had  there  been  a  sum 
mons  at  such  an  hour.  Captain  and  sergeant  both 
well  knew  how  the  major  had  insisted  that  the  original 
stories  were  exaggerated;  had  refused  to  believe  the  re 
ports  of  outlying  sentries  and  patrols  to  the  effect  that 
Indians  by  the  dozen  were  leaving  the  reservation  and 
slipping  southwestward.  And  now  it  had  fallen  to  their 
lot  to  be  witness  and  transmitter,  respectively,  of  impor 
tant  message  coming  in  at  the  dead  of  night ;  one,  more 
over,  that  could  only  add  sorely  to  Piggott's  discomfiture. 

"  See  what  they  want  as  quick  as  you  can,  sergeant," 
he  cried  in  nervous  haste,  "  They  may  have  been  waving 
an  hour.  Sentries  can  hardly  see  that  torch  with  the 
naked  eye.  Certainly  I  can't." 

"  Sentry  No.  3  did  see  it,  sir,"  observed  Captain  Haz- 
lett  very  quietly.  "  He  had  just  reported  it  when  the 
adjutant  came  for  me.  I  doubt  their  having  swung  more 
than  a  very  few  minutes." 

Meantime  Craig  and  his  men,  bending  over  their  kits, 
had  been  busily  at  work.  Presently  at  the  tip  of  a  long, 
jointed  staff  a  copper  torch  was  firmly  set,  the  match 
applied,  and  a  bright  flame  burst  on  the  night.  Then  up 
it  went  to  the  vertical  in  the  strong  grasp  of  a  tall  in 
fantryman.  "Answer  at  once.  Never  mind  the  rest," 
said  the  captain,  while  his  men  went  on  setting  foot  torch 
and  flame  shades,  and  then  as  the  post  adjutant,  bringing 


72  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

his  own  glasses,  came  hurrying  back  to  join  them,  with 
powerful  sweep  the  long  torch  was  whirled  swiftly  down 
twice  in  quick  succession  to  the  bearer's  left;  twice 
again;  twice  a  third  time;  then  from  the  vertical  it  sank 
slowly  to  earth  directly  in  front.  "  22-22-22-3  "  it  sig 
naled.  "  All  right.  We  see  you.  We're  ready.  Go 
ahead  with  your  message,"  it  said.  And,  though  it  was 
all  Greek  to  him,  Piggott  gazed  through  his  binocular; 
the  adjutant  brought  his  glass  to  bear,  while  the  sergeant 
steadied  the  long  telescope  against  a  tree  box,  and  sta 
tioned  one  man,  with  pad  and  pencil,  to  record  the  mes 
sage  as  it  fell  from  the  receiver's  lips.  In  breathless  silence 
all  watched  and  waited,  listening  intently.  A  moment  of 
silence  and  the  sergeant  began  slowly  to  speak.  "  Be 
ready,  Klein,"  he  murmured,  to  the  recorder.  "  Here  it 
comes." 

Only  those  who  had  glasses,  and  good  ones,  so  great 
was  the  distance,  could  follow  the  swift,  tiny,  sparklike 
circling  of  the  little  red  spot  against  the  black  background 
of  the  Mesa.  Craig's  lips  began  to  twitch  again.  "  To 
Commanding  Officer,"  said  he.  "  That's  easy.  Now ! 
S-o-l-a-l-a-y  (Three)  e-s-c-a-p-e-d.  (Three  three) 
I-n-d-i-a-n-s  (Three)  s-a-y  (Three)  n-o-w  (Three) 
s-a-f-e  (Three)  S-i-e-r-r-a  (Three)  B-1-a-n-c-a  (Three 
three).  F-a-n-e  (Three)  a-n-d  (three)  a-1-1  (Three) 
d-e-c-1-a-r-e-d  (Three)  k-i-1-l-e-d  (Three  three).  Sig. 
Waters,  Agt.  (Three  three  three),"  concluded  the  ser 
geant,  with  professional  gravity.  "  Up,  Smith !  Acknow- 


NIGHT  SIGNALS  FROM  THE  AGENCY     73 

ledge ! "  And  while  the  signal  man  slowly  swung  the 
message  "  We  understand,"  with  misery  in  his  trembling 
voice  the  major  turned  to  Captain  Hazlett. 

"  Can  you  believe  that — possible?" 

"  Quite,  sir,"  said  Hazlett  dryly,  "  if  Turner  obeyed 
the  orders  I  hear  were — given  him,"  which  was  as  near 
to  insubordination  as  Hazlett  had  ever  been  known  to  go,, 


CHAPTER  V 

AS   THE   MAJOR   TOLD  IT 

BTJT  Turner,  as  we  know,  had  found  means  of  dis 
regarding  orders,  of  getting  around  and  beyond 
the  interposing  Indians,  of  succoring  Fane,  and 
then  of  herding  homeward  the  renegades.  We  know,  too, 
that  Fane  and  some,  at  least,  of  his  people,  though  sorely 
hammered,  were  not  killed,  but  it  was  two  days  before  the 
modified  comfort  of  this  assurance  reached  the  post  com 
mander,  who  meantime,  fortunately,  sent  no  further  de 
spatch.  "  Bad  news  travels  fast  enough,"  said  he.  "  And 
I  do  not  feel  justified  in  risking  couriers  through  hostile 
Indian  country  until  positive  information  is  secured." 
Hazlett,  to  whom  this  was  imparted,  bowed  solemnly  and 
said  nothing.  The  hostiles  were  almost  as  numerous  and 
much  more  hostile  when  Toyah  was  despatched  with 
tidings  that  were  based  on  no  better  authority,  but 
Toyah  bore  announcement  that  would  vastly  benefit  Pig- 
gott  in  point  of  professional  reputation,  and  Piggott  could 
carry  much  more  of  such  report  in  his  favor  without 
being  overburdened. 

There  were  few  women  at  this  distant,  isolated  post, 
to  which  the  mail  came  but  once  a  week,  and  that  by 
buckboard  from  the  Gila  Valley.  Two  brave  army  women 

74 


AS    THE    MAJOR    TOLD    IT  75 

had  followed  officer  husbands  in  exile,  Mrs.  Hazlett  and 
Mrs.  Gregg — Turner's  wife  preferring  to  winter  in  San 
Francisco,  at  least  until  he  could  get  transferred  to  Sandy, 
where  there  were  comfortable  quarters,  and  they  were 
only  a  day's  ride  from  Prescott,  Fort  Whipple,  and  lots  of 
army  gayety.  But  in  gentle  Mrs.  Hazlett  young  Fane 
had  already  found  a  kind  and  helpful  friend.  The  cap 
tain  had  served  under  General  Fane  in  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland ;  had  welcomed  the  son  for  the  sake  of  the 
father,  and  had  begun  to  like  him  for  his  own.  There 
was  no  way  of  cross-questioning  the  agent's  authorities  as 
to  the  direful  story  told.  Moreover,  as  a  result  of  three 
years'  study  of  Apache  characteristics,  Hazlett  had 
learned  to  place  more  reliance  on  their  bald  statements 
than  upon  the  embroidered  tales  of  the  average  settler. 
That  Solalay  had  been  captured  and  had  later  managed 
to  escape,  Hazlett  fully  believed.  That  Fane  and  his  party 
had  been  massacre^  to  a  man  he  regarded  as  more  than 
probable.  The  sudden  hegira  of  three  hundred  braves 
could  only  have  been  caused  by  some  such  stirring 
emergency  as  the  attempt  to  wrest  a  noted  chief  from  the 
hands  of  his  captors.  That  many  or  most  of  them  were 
already  back  again  went  far  to  prove  that,  one  way  or 
another,  their  mission  was  ended;  that  with  'confidence 
the  agent  could  signal  that  Solalay  had  escaped  and  was 
safe  in  the  wilds  of  the  Sierra  Blanca  added  to  Hazlett's 
firm  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  story.  As  for  the  rest 
of  it,  the  doctrine  of  probabilities  ruled  in  its  favor.  What 


76  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

chance  had  Fane  and  his  little  party,  surrounded  among 
the  rocks  of  the  Sierra  by  ten  times  his  force  in  foes? 
It  was  with  sad  heart  that  Hazlett  ventured  home  at  three 
in  the  morning,  praying  she  might  be  asleep,  and  well 
knowing  she  would  not  be.  She  was  up  and  had  coffee 
ready  for  him,  and  his  campaign  kit  spread  out  upon  the 
bed,  and  had  closed  the  door  to  the  childrens'  room  lest 
they  should  wake  and  hear  and  be  terrified;  and  from 
passing  members  of  the  guard  she  had  heard  the  story 
and  so  spared  him  the  sorrow  of  having  to  tell  it.  She 
met  him  with  fond  arms  and  kiss  at  the  doorway  to  their 
little  army  home,  and  drew  him  within  and  hung  his 
sword  and  belt  upon  their  accustomed  hook.  "  I  heard 
it  from  one  of  our  men,"  said  she.  "  But  I  shall  not 
believe  it  yet.  Will  you  be  sent  out — do  you  think  ?  " 

"  No  one  will  be  sent  out,"  he  answered,  drawing  her 
within  the  clasp  of  his  strong  arms,  "  no  one,  that  is,  ex 
cept  the  couriers  to  call  in  all  that  are  out — even  the  hay 
cutters,  even  the  big  guard  at  the  Fork.  Nell,  how  thank 
ful  I  am  we  have  no  telegraph !  " 

"  Then  you  think  it — true  ?  "  she  questioned,  her  brave 
eyes  swimming,  her  lips  quivering  despite  every  effort  at 
self-control. 

"  I — fear  so,  unless  Turner — ignored  his  orders." 

Two  big  tears  began  to  trickle  down  her  sun-burnecl 
cheeks.  They  were  heroines,  these  army  women  of  "  the 
days  of  the  Empire  " — the  early  days  of  the  conversion  of 
the  Apache.  Privation  they  could  and  did  endure ;  death 


AS    THE    MAJOR   TOLD    IT  77 

they  dared,  but  complexions  they  sacrificed — some  of 
them  irrevocably — to  marital  love  and  devotion.  The 
woman  of  the  Orient  blackens  her  teeth  to  prove  her 
loyalty  to  the  lord  of  her  bosom.  It  is  left  for  the 
army  wife  to  tan  her  own  skin.  Madame  Yale  was  then 
unknown.  Cold  cream  would  speedily  have  become  hot 
and  spoiled,  and  similar  preparations  could  never  have 
survived  a  week  of  that  fierce,  furnace-like  heat.  The 
only  balm  that  never  lost  its  power  to  soothe  was  the  kiss 
of  love,  gratitude  and  unchanging  admiration  that  re 
warded,  if  it  could  not  quite  repay,  the  lavish  tribute  of  a 
wife's  devotion.  Nell  Hazlett,  sure  of  her  soldier  hus 
band's  heart  and  soul,  was  a  happy  woman  even  in  her 
isolation,  save  when,  as  now,  she  had  to  think  of  other 
women's  sorrows,  and  more  than  all  others  she  was  think 
ing  now  of  Ronald  Fane's  mother  and  sisters,  of  whom 
he  had  talked  to  her  every  day  and  evening  since  his 
coming  to  the  post  six  weeks  before,  and  of  Ronald 
Fane's  sweetheart,  of  whom  he  had  only  just  begun  to 
talk  within  the  week  that  saw  him  sent  forth  to  his 
soldier  duty — to,  perhaps,  his  soldier  fate. 

"  He  left  certain  things  in  my  care,"  she  murmured, 
nestling  her  chair  close  beside  his  own,  after  pouring  his 
coffee.  It  lacked  still  three  hours  of  dawn,  but  well 
she  knew  that  he  would  not  now  rest,  or  remove  his 
clothes,  until  relieved  from  guard.  "  And  he  asked  me  to 
take  especial  care  of  certain  letters,  and  to  write  to  her  if 
he  didn't  come  back.  You  know  how  eager  he  was  to  go 


78  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

at  first,  and  then  how  he  came  to  us  just  before  the  start — 
after  Captain  Turner  had  been  talking  with  him." 

"  I  know,"  said  Hazlett  gravely.  He  had  been  thinking 
of  just  that  same  matter — of  Fane's  grave  and  anxious 
face  as  he  came  from  that  last  conference  with  his  cap 
tain. 

"  Well,  dear,  the  letters  came — yesterday,  three  of 
them,  all  postmarked  Lenox,  within  ten  days  of  each 
other.  It  is  going  to  be  hard  to  have  to  write  to  her." 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  is  an  engagement  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  said  no,  but  think — three  letters  in  nine  days,  and 
in  the  height  o£  a  social  season,  and  she  a  belle  and  much 
sought  after." 

Hazlett  finished  his  coffee,  and  pushed  back  his  chair 
He  was  thinking  deeply,  painfully,  and  yet  his  arm  en 
circled  and  drew  her  to  his  side.  "  I,  too,  have  a  letter, 
tzvo  letters  in  fact,  only  I  haven't  liked  to  speak  of  them 
as  yet.  I  did  not  see  my  way.  I  hoped  Fane  didn't — care 
so  much  for — for — well,  I  suppose  it's  the  same  girl." 

"  Why  ?  "  and  her  eyes  opened  wide  as  she  turned  her 
face  full  upon  him. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing  against  her!"  he  began  in  haste,  for 
the  tone  of  the  question  told  the  trend  of  her  thought. 
"  At  least — well,  it's  from  the  general,  his  father.  Col 
onel's  pay,  you  know,  doesn't  go  far  at  Fort  Adams  when 
wife  and  daughters  delight  in  the  Casino  and  Society." 

"  But  I  thought  he,  or  she,  or  both  of  them,  had  money." 

"  That's  just  it.    That's  just  the  worst  of  it,"  answered 


AS    THE    MAJOR    TOLD    IT  79 

Hazlett  gravely  "  If  they'd  never  had  it,  and  had  been 
bred  to  self-denial  and  simple  living  it  wouldn't  be  so 
hard.  Nell,  dear,  Mrs.  Fane  has  never  been  a  Mrs.  Haz 
lett,  and  now  the  dear  old  fellow  is  worrying  his  heart 
out  over  the  situation.  Her  money,  what  there  was  of  it, 
went  five  years  ago.  His  hasn't  been  enough  to  supply 
the  demand.  Now  he's  a  poor  man,  with  a  wife  and 
daughters  richly  endowed  in  the  extravagances  of  life. 
He  has  heard  fabulous  tales  of  Arizona  mines — that  led 
to  his  letters.  Then  he  began  to  open  his  heart.  He  says 
there's  only  a  little  life  insurance ;  that  he  can't  live  many 
years ;  that  his  boy  may  have  to  look  out  for  the  mother 
and  some  of  the  sisters,  and  he  fears  Ronald  has  fallen 
in  love.  Bad  as  that  was,  how  infinitely  worse  will  it  be 
if — we've  lost  him  entirely." 

She  bowed  her  head  upon  the  broad  shoulder,  with  its 
worn  old  strap  of  tarnished  gold  and  pallid  blue.  "  Fallen 
in  love !  "  she  cried.  "  Why,  Ned,  he  almost  worships  that 
girl,  I  believe !  What's  more,  I  believe  she  cares  for  him, 
Listen !  There's  someone  running  ?  " 

Hazlett  was  first  at  the  door,  his  young  wife  close  fol 
lowing.  Somebody  was  running,  running  swiftly,  up  the 
gentle  slope  toward  the  commanding  officer's,  at  whose 
window  a  light  was  dimly  burning.  Other  lights  were 
blinking  in  the  low  log  barracks  across  the  quadrangle 
and  down  at  the  loop-holed  guardhouse  where,  in  the 
faint  moonbeams,  half  a  dozen  dark  forms  were  huddled 
in  a  bunch.  Hazlett  quickly  buckled  on  his  sword  belt 


80  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

and,  with  a  reassuring  word,  left  her  at  the  doorway. 
News  of  some  kind,  he  argued,  must  have  come,  and  he 
preferred  to  get  it  first  hand  rather  than  through  the 
medium  of  the  post  commander. 

Two  Apaches,  somewhat  bedraggled  but  by  no  means 
betraying  anxiety  or  fear,  stood  in  front  of  the  guard 
house  porch,  surrounded  by  several  men  of  the  guard. 
To  Hazlett's  question,  "  What  have  we  here  ?  "  after  being 
"  advanced  "  by  the  corporal  of  the  third  relief,  the  ser 
geant  came  forward  and  reported. 

"  Lieutenant  Hunter  of  San  Carlos,  just  back  from  his 
scout,  sir,  sent  these  two  beggars  in  because  what  they 
told  might  be  true.  He  picked  them  up  on  the  lower 
Salado.  Corporal  Speed,  who  brought  them  in,  says  they 
want  to  swap  news  for  something  to  eat.  They  had 
nothing  but  hardtack,  so  they  sent  'em  here.  This  one 
speaks  Spanish,  he  says,  and  as  far  as  I  can  make  out  he 
will  talk  if  we'll  feed  him.  The  company  cooks  are  just 
being  called,  sir,  and  I  thought  it  worth  trying.  Corporal 
Linck  went  on  the  run  for  the  trader.  He  talks  Spanish 
and  Tatchie  both.  I  told  him  to  tell  the  major." 

But  Hazlett  could  not  wait.  He  turned  on  the  first  and 
nearest.  "  Qmere  comer?  "  he  asked,  in  the  vernacular  of 
the  land.  The  Indian  simply  nodded.  He  had  been  long 
schooled  to  waiting.  His  news  was  marketable,  as  he 
well  understood,  and  would  fetch  its  price.  "  Tell  our 
cooks  to  heat  some  hash,  quick,  and  send  a  lot  of  it  here — 
and  bread — and  coffee,"  said  the  captain,  to  the  drummer 


AS    THE    MAJOR    TOLD    IT  81 

of  the  guard,  and  the  little  chap  started  instantly  and  at 
speed.  The  Apache  noted,  though  without  a  sign.  "  Gran 
Capitan's  "  word  was  good  enough  for  him.  Then  Haz- 
lett  turned  on  him  again,  and  again  with  the  lingo  of  the 
far  southwest — the  lengua  Castellana  crossed  with  the 
heathen  dialect  of  the  Tonto  Apache : 

"Sabe  T entente  Chiquito— Fane  ?  " 

A  nod  was  the  instant  answer. 

"Mvtrtof 

A  shake  of  the  shaggy  black  head.  Then  four  grimy 
ringers  were  uplifted. 

"What?  Cuatrof — Solamente  Cuatro?"  questioned 
Hazlett,  hopefully,  eagerly.  "  Only  four  killed  ?  " 

"  My  God !  "  muttered  the  sergeant,  forgetful  of  disci 
pline  in  the  access  of  relief  and  joy.  "  He  says  only  four 
are  killed — only  four,  and  the  lieutenant  not  one  of  them. 
Go  fetch  him  a  tubful,  Johnny.  He  shall  eat  till  he  busts, 
if  I  have  to  go  hungry." 

And  then  the  polyglot  trader  and  the  first  relay  of  ra 
tions  arrived  together.  The  ravenous  Indians  fell  to  at 
the  trenchers,  and  for  a  few  minutes  only  guttural 
monosyllables  could  be  extracted  from  either.  Hazlett 
hastened  back  to  his  quarters,  his  first  thought  for 
Nell. 

She  was  waiting  at  the  door  and  almost  sobbed  aloud  at 
his  joyous  words  "  I  believe  Fane  is  safe,  and  that  but 
few  were  killed.  Hunter  sent  in  two  Tontos — men  whom 
he  caught  down  the  Salado."  At  sight  of  the  major's 


82  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

hurrying  form  Hazlett  stepped  one  moment  inside  the 
door.  Probably  he  would  have  done  so  anyway.  Then 
hastened  back  to  the  group.  Poole,  the  trader,  turned 
promptly  to  him,  which  was  uncomplimentary  to  the  com 
manding  officer,  but  he  had  known  and  respected  Hazlett 
three  long  years.  He  had  not  yet  learned  to  respect  his 
post  commander. 

'  These  fellows  tell  it  straight,  captain/'  said  he.  "  Fane 
was  corraled  in  the  Pass,  they  say,  and  fought  like  hell. 
Four  soldiers  were  killed,  and  a  lot  of  Indians.  Solalay 
and  his  people  all  got  away.  Solalay  wounded,  but  able 
to  travel.  He's  far  out  of  reach  by  this  time." 

And  in  this  way  came  the  earliest  reports  to  the  little 
garrison  of  the  serious  affair  in  which  so  many  comrades 
had  been  engaged,  and  in  the  course  of  which,  doubtless, 
others,  too,  had  fallen,  painfully  wounded  if  not  done  to 
death.    There  was  little  sleep  the  remaining  hours  of  the 
night,   for  either  officer  or  man.     Any  moment  might 
bring  further  signals    from    the    agency,  any  hour    be 
fraught  with  tidings  from  the  field.    Piggott  ordered  the 
sentries  doubled,  the    outposts    reinforced,  the    infantry 
under  arms.    "  Knowing  our  depleted  strength,"  said  he, 
"it  might  occur  to  the  Apaches  that  now  would  be  a 
capital  time  to  attack  the  post."     Hazlett  mustered  his 
men  without  a  word  of  reply.     "  Knowing,"  said  he,  to 
himself,  "  that  Turner  and  his  troopers  were  close  at  their 
heels,  the  Apaches  probably  were  making  the  best  time  of 
which  they  were  capable,  getting  back  to  the  agency," 


AS    THE    MAJOR    TOLD    IT  83 

and,  once  out  of  the  valleys  and  into  the  rocks  the  Apache 
afoot  could  make  two  miles  to  the  troopers  one.  Dozens, 
as  they  knew,  were  already  back.  Dozens  more  were 
coming,  and  just  at  dawn  the  outlying  pickets  heard  afar 
off  to  the  northwest  the  soft,  yet  stirring  peal  of  the  cav 
alry  trumpet  and  the  crackle  of  carbine  and  rifle. 
Turner's  fellows  had  caught  up  with  a  lot  of  laggards, 
possibly  conveying  Indian  wounded,  while  still  in  the  flats 
of  the  Salado,  and  were  teaching  them  the  error  of  their 
ways. 

Then  it  could  not  be  long  before  there  came  official 
tidings  from  the  seat  of  war.  It  was  not.  The  drums 
and  fifes  played  their  perfunctory  reveille  at  six  o'clock 
to  a  garrison  already  wide  awake,  and  the  lookout  at  the 
quartermaster's  stables  shouted,  "  Couriers  coming  from 
the  west ! " 

They  proved  to  be  Sergeant  Hickey,  of  Turner's  troop, 
and  two  men,  with  spent  and  nearly  shoeless  horses,  with 
"  the  captain's  compliments,  and  he  was  rounding  up  the 
last  of  the  renegades  and  hadn't  time  to  write."  He  had 
forty  prisoners,  mostly  wounded  Tontos  and  Sierra 
Blancas,  and  would  return  to  the  post  by  easy  marches  as 
soon  as  he  had  turned  over  his  victims,  as  orders  re 
quired,  to  the  guard  at  the  agency.  Before  the  wearied 
men  could  stable  their  horses  or  get  a  mouthful  to  eat, 
the  major  demanded  full  account  of  the  situation,  and 
then  at  last  the  suspense  was  ended  and  the  tale  of  the 
Tontos,  as  told  by  Trader  Poole,  was  verified,  and  more. 


84  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

Farnham,  Schmidt,  Welch  and  Sinclair  were  the  four  the 
Indians  knew  to  be  dead,  and  dismembered,  though  the 
latter  fact  had  not  hitherto  been  mentioned.  It  was  left 
to  Hickey  and  his  fellows  to  tell  the  rest — that  for  forty- 
eight  hours  Fane's  little  force  had  stood  off  perhaps  thirty 
times  their  weight  in  mountain  Apaches;  that  Doyle  and 
Murray  had  died  of  their  dreadful  wounds ;  that  Hayden's 
leg  was  broken,  and  he  was  half  dead;  that  Fuller  and 
Higgins  were  very  low;  that  Dolan,  Sutton,  Field  and 
Mullins  had  been  painfully,  and  almost  all  the  others 
slightly,  wounded,  and  that  Lieutenant  Fane  himself  was 
nearly  blinded  from  inflammation  resulting  from  a  gash 
along  the  eyebrows,  and  that  his  left  arm  was  shattered 
close  to  the  shoulder.  Dr.  Evans  had  said  "  Teniente 
Chiquito  "  would  probably  never  be  able  to  spar  again. 

"  But  what's  this  about  Solalay  and  other  Indians  escap 
ing?  How  did  that  happen?"  asked  Major  Piggott, 
whereat  it  is  said  old  Hickey  looked  dazed  for  a  moment 
before  he  answered.  "  We  niver  axed  about  that,  sorr, 
when  we  saw  the  fix  they  were  in.  The  wonder  was  how 
our  fellows  escaped,  e'er  a  one  of  'em,  wid  so  much  as  a 
piece  of  his  skin." 

But  this  was  the  despatch  Major  Piggott  sent  the  next 
day,  and  by  way  of  McDowell  this  time,  for  now  he  had 
nothing  to  boast  of.  This  was  the  despatch  the  clerks  at 
post  headquarters  used  to  show,  as  its  copy  stood  for 
weeks  in  the  "  Letters  Sent  "  book,  to  comrades  who  could 
hardly  believe  their  eyes,  especially  such  comrades  as 


AS    THE    MAJOR    TOLD    IT  85 

Dolan,  Scott  and  Fuller  when  Fuller  was  able  to  be  up 
and  about  again,  and  that  little  Hayden  came  limping 
over  from  the  hospital  to  see,  some  six  weeks  later,  and 
seeing  said  things  that  might  have  cost  him  six  months' 
pay  and  concomitant  hard  labor  in  charge  of  the  guard. 
This  was  the  letter,  report,  dispatch  or  whatever  it  might 
be  termed  that,  in  his  bitterness  and  chagrin,  "  Ould 
Spigots  "  sent  on  to  Department  Headquarters,  without 
requesting  the  commanding  officer  of  McDowell  to  open 
and  read,  but  sealed  against  such  intrusion,  and  this  was 
the  report  that,  in  garbled  form,  got  into  the  columns  of 
the  California  press,  and  in  condensed  and  worse  form 
into  the  telegraphic  news  from  the  Pacific  slope  as  re 
produced  in  the  journals  of  the  Atlantic  and  Middle 
States : 

FORT  PLUMA  BLANCA,  A.  T., 

November  I5th,  187—, 
ASSISTANT  ADJUTANT  GENERAL, 

HEADQUARTERS    DEPARTMENT   OF    ARIZONA, 

WHIPPLE  BARRACKS,  PRESCOTT. 

Sir:  I  regret  to  be  compelled  to  announce  that,  after  their  bril 
liant  capture  by  the  cavalry  from  this  post  while  acting  under  my 
instructions,  Chief  Solalay  and  the  Indian  renegades  under 
charge  of  Lieutenant  Fane,  — th  Cavalry,  who  had  a  strong 
guard,  succeeded  in  making  their  escape  and  are  still  at  large. 
Captain  Turner,  with  eighty  men,  is  in  pursuit,  and  I  cannot 
but  hope  that  this  energetic  officer  may  succeed  in  recapturing 
such  dangerous  and  desperate  characters.  Lieutenant  Fane 
appears  to  have  led  his  men  into  an  ambuscade,  in  which  sev 
eral  were  killed  and  many,  including  himself,  were  more  or 


86  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

less  severely  wounded.  I  have  sent  surgeons,  ambulance,  attend 
ants,  etc.,  with  pack  mules,  to  Tonto  Pass,  and  will  report  fur 
ther  when  the  party  returns. 

Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

JOHN  S.  PIGGOTT, 

Major  Commanding. 

"My  God!"  said  little  Hayden.  "That  for  the  man 
that  dared  hell  to  save  me!  That,  when  old  Spigots  has 
the  medal  of  honor  I  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SOLDIER'S  THREAT 

THAT  medal  of  honor  of  the  major's  had  been  a 
matter  of  mild  wonderment  among  the  exiles  of 
those  early  and  almost  forgotten  days.  It  was  a 
decoration  much  prized  and  much  coveted  in  the  little 
fighting  force  of  the  old  army.  So  far  as  then  known 
it  stood  for  some  specific  act  of  distinguished  bravery  in 
action.  Two  veteran  sergeants  at  the  post  of  Pluma 
Blanca  were  its  proud  possessors:  one  for  a  daring  deed 
at  Five  Forks ;  the  other  for  saving  the  life  of  a  boy  lieu 
tenant  under  furious  fire  at  Gettysburg.  The  regimental 
standard  bearer  and  his  guard  for  similar  reasons  had  all 
been  similarly  decorated.  Indeed,  one  of  Colonel  Pel- 
ham's  fads  was  the  selection  of  medal  of  honor  men  for 
that  proud  and  conspicuous  duty,  but  these  men  were  at 
regimental  headquarters,  Camp  Sandy.  Already,  too, 
there  were  three  non-commissioned  officers  whose  heroism 
in  Indian  warfare  (which  demands,  indeed,  a  higher  order 
of  courage,  because  of  its  desperate  nature)  had  led  to 
War  Department  recognition  and  the  medal.  But  it  was 
a  singular  fact  that  of  the  three  regiments  at  that  time 
serving  in  Arizona  only  one  commissioned  officer  could 
count  the  bronze  cross  of  that  most  distinguished  Order 

87 


88  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

among  his  possessions,  and  of  all  others  that  man  was 
Major  Piggott. 

In  those  days  the  annual  army  register  never  published, 
as  now,  the  list  of  officers  and  men  entitled  to  the  medal, 
and  why.  Every  soldier  in  the  — th,  however,  knew  just 
how,  when  and  where  his  regimental  comrades  had  won 
the  prize.  But  Piggott  came  to  them  a  comparative 
stranger;  his  medal  as  a  complete  surprise.  He  arrived 
at  Department  Headquarters  one  hot  summer's  day.  A 
dance  was  given  at  Whipple  Barracks  the  following  night, 
the  cool  mountain  air  rendering  full  uniform  a  possibility 
and,  civilian  evening  dress  being  an  official  impossibility 
on  such  occasions,  the  officers  appeared  in  the  new  frock 
coat  and  pincushion  shoulder-knot  of  the  then  brand  new 
regulations,  and  lo,  on  Piggott's  broad  and  manly  breast 
was  pinned  the  tiny  flag  and  the  modest  copper-colored 
medal  that,  in  the  eyes  of  all  men  and  women  there  as 
sembled,  was  the  symbol  of  most  distinguished  valor,  and 
one  thing  they  had  hitherto  heard  of  the  new  arrival  re 
cently  "  consolidated  "  into  the  cavalry  and  assigned  to  the 
— th  and  Arizona,  was  that  he  had  never  been  in  action. 
Then  how  the  mischief  happened  it  that  he  should  have 
that  medal?  Men  looked  at  the  decoration  and  then  at 
each  other,  and  said  nothing.  Women  looked  first  at  the 
medal,  and  then  at  the  men  for  explanation.  Mrs.  Wil- 
kins,  the  unterrified  helpmate  of  a  veteran  lieutenant,  a 
woman  of  whom  many  a  man  beside  her  husband  stood 
utterly  in  awe,  took  the  bull  by  the  horns,  as  she  would 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  89 

express  it,  and  shortly  after  supper,  when  the  sets  were 
"forming  for  the  then  never-neglected  Lancers,  faced  her 
complacent  partner  without  a  tremor  and  amazed  him 
with  the  out  and  out  demand,  "  Well,  Meejor  Piggott, 
it's  the  medal  of  honor  ye're  wearing !  Now,  how  did  ye 
get  it?" 

Piggott,  perhaps,  had  been  asked  that  question  before, 
and  at  all  events  knew  just  how  to  take  it.  Bowing  with 
much  deference  and  with  something  like  a  blush  upon  his 
already  ruddy  face,  he  diplomatically  replied: 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Wilkins,  in  a  regiment  like  yours  it  would  be 
absurd  to  speak  of  my  service.  Modesty  forbids." 

"  But  sure,  meejor,"  she  persisted,  "  now  that  ye're  to 
be  wan  of  us,  it's  proud  we  are  to  see,  and  we  want  to 
know,  all  about  it." 

And  even  then  he  parried,  as  "  First  couple  forward 
and  back ! "  was  shouted  by  the  then  indispensable 
"  caller."  She  nailed  him,  however,  when  it  came  to 
"  Swing  your  partners  all,"  and  with  jovial  laugh  he 
answered  in  bluff,  off-hand,  soldier  fashion : 

"  Oh,  for  just  a  little  thing  that  happened  in  front  of 
Washington,  way  back  in  '63.  There  was  really  nothing 
to  it  worth  mentioning,  but  the  President  and  Secretary 
seemed  to  think  there  was.  Don't  ask  me  to  go  into  par 
ticulars — here." 

And,  on  his  promise  to  tell  her  later,  his  cross-ques 
tioner  released  him,  but  after  that  Lancers  never  once 
could  Mrs.  Wilkins  lure  or  waylay  him.  In  thirty-six 


90  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

hours  he  was  away  by  buckboard  for  the  post  assigned 
him  far  over  at  the  foothills  of  the  Black  Mesa,  and  up 
to  this  moment,  in  mid  November,  neither  Mrs.  Wilkins 
nor  anybody  else,  from  the  colonel  down,  had  been  able 
to  ascertain  by  what  act  of  valor  Piggott  had  won  the 
coveted  medal.    Black  Bill,  his  junior  by  a  file  or  two  on 
the  list  of  majors,  who  had  many  a  battle  scar  but  never 
an  "  honor,"  save  some  brevets  showered  promiscuously 
at  the  close  of  the  war,  swore  he'd  have  it  out  of  Spigots 
if  ever  he  met  him.     Bluff  old  Caraway,  who  had  led  a 
New  England  brigade  through  the  Wilderness  with  Grant 
in  '64,  and  was  now  doing  duty  with  the  title  of  general 
and  the  pay  of  a  major,  burst  into  shouts  of  laughter 
when  asked  if  he  knew.     "  Why,"  said  he,  "  you  could 
buy  those  things  for  a  shilling  where  Piggott  hails  from," 
and  Wickham,  the  black-bearded  adjutant  general,  with  a 
fighting  record  and  four  wounds  to  his  credit,  so  far  de 
parted  from  his  general  rule  of  never  knowing  anything 
as  to  say  that  one  of  the  traditions  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  that  a  whole  regiment  of  "  emergency  men  " 
went  home  with  the  medal  without  ever  once  pulling 
trigger  behind  a  ball  cartridge. 

But  Spigots  appeared  with  his  medal  at  Sunday  morn 
ing  inspection  at  Fort  Pluma  Blanca,  soon  after  which 
Sergeants  Strong  of  the  cavalry  and  Tremain  of  the  in 
fantry  discontinued  the  practice  of  wearing  theirs,  and 
merely  looked  embarrassed  when  their  captains  asked 
them  why.  Hazlett  and  Turner,  comparing  notes  as  to 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  91 

that  significant  fact,  grinned  and  allowed  that  while  ex 
isting  orders  permitted,  they  did  not  prescribe  the  wearing 
of  the  medal  at  all  functions  in  full  dress.  The  major 
was  living  in  solitary  state  by  the  time  he  had  been  a 
month  at  the  post.  Wife  and  olive  branches  he  had  in  the 
distant  East.  There  was  no  officers'  mess,  proper,  at  the 
fort.  Turner,  with  two  of  his  subalterns,  Fane  and 
Bliss,  "  kept  house  "  after  a  fashion.  Gregg  was  married 
and  Mrs.  Gregg  was  much  in  evidence.  The  infantry 
bachelors  boarded  at  the  trader's  and  lived  better  than  did 
their  fellows.  The  major  dwelt  alone,  looked  after  by  a 
China  boy  who  was  domestically  all  things  in  one. 

And,  since  the  sending  of  that  second  dispatch  and  the 
fuller  report  that  followed,  the  major  found  himself  more 
than  ever  without  sympathetic  fellow  men.  Turner  and 
his  command  got  back  about  the  I7th,  by  which  time  Dr. 
Evans  had  most  of  his  wounded  under  canvas  at  the  fort. 
Others,  more  painfully  wounded,  were  still  a  few  miles 
away,  having  come  in  by  slow  stages.  Some  were  still 
delirious,  some  in  dangerous  condition.  One,  Lieutenant 
Fane,  though  suffering  much  and  quite  weak,  was  clear 
headed  and  on  the  mend. 

But  his  wound  was  one  over  which  Evans  and  his  assis 
tant  pondered  much  and  gravely.  They  were  beginning 
to  wonder  if  the  senior  had  been  wise  in  trying  to  save 
what  was  left  of  the  arm.  A  decade  earlier  it  would  have 
been  sliced  off  summarily.  The  humerus  had  been  shat 
tered  and  split  by  a  jagged,  spherical  bullet  that  literally 


92  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  smashed  things,"  for  fragments  of  bone  had  been  driven 
through  to  the  shirt  sleeve,  and  others  were  oozing  out 
with  every  day.  Evans  swore  he  could  "  patch  the  thing 
up,"  and  had  proceeded  to  do  so,  but,  time  and  again  the 
two  would  come  and  remove  the  dressing  and  study  the 
ugly  hole,  resting  their  elbows  on  their  knees,  and  their 
chins  in  their  hands  as  they  did  so,  and  then  they  would 
renew  the  bandages,  and  the  carbolated  applications,  and 
talk  cheerily  with  their  patient,  and  then,  gravely  and 
murmuringly,  later,  to  each  other.  Turner  and  Hazlett 
saw  how  anxious  they  were  and  it  made  the  captains 
anxious.  And  all  this  time,  for  ten  days  after  the  fight, 
neither  Turner,  Hazlett  nor  any  officer  at  the  post  except 
Piggott  and  his  unhappy  young  adjutant  knew  the  tenor 
of  his  reports  and  despatches,  even  though  among  the 
enlisted  men  talk  and  comment,  not  to  say  curses,  were 
rife. 

Then  came  a  despatch  from  Department  Headquarters. 
Major  Piggott  was  ordered  to  proceed  thither  "  for  con 
sultation  "  at  once,  and  the  Major  started  in  the  big 
covered  Concord  forthwith.  Then,  when  he  was  well 
away,  Sergeant  Dolan  begged  the  captain's  pardon,  but 
did  the  captain  know  anything  about  what  the  major  had 
reported,  and  if  not,  in  justice  to  his  officers  and  men, 
would  the  captain  make  inquiry  ?  And  the  captain  did,  at 
once,  of  Captain  Hazlett,  now  become  commander  of  the 
post,  and  together  these  two  overhauled  the  retained  files, 
and  the  scene  that  ensued  and  the  language  made  use  of 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  93 

by  one  of  the  two  officers,  the  trooper  of  course,  might 
have  cost  that  vigorous  campaigner  very  much  both  in 
cash  and  commission  had  existent  regulations  of  the  day 
been  rigidly  enforced. 

Then  the  doctors  said  that  no  word  of  their  discovery 
must  be  made  known  to  Fane.  It  might  throw  him  into 
fever  that  would  jeopard  his  life. 

As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  too,  it  all  happened  while 
the  Gray  Fox  was  away  on  an  exploration  of  his  own — 
a  ride  through  the  Sierras  far  to  the  south — far  down  by 
the  Chihuahua  line.  He  was  looked  for  any  day,  yet 
might  be  out  for  a  week  more,  and  Wickham,  in  his  ab 
sence,  could  only  forward  the  contents  of  reports  and 
despatches  to  division  headquarters  at  San  Francisco  and 
hold  the  originals  for  the  action  of  his  chief.  But  Wick- 
ham  could  not  swallow  the  contents  of  the  second  and 
third  budget  from  Pluma  Blanca.  After  quick  conference 
with  Pelham,  summoned  up  from  Camp  Sandy,  he  de 
cided  to  send  for  the  senior  major  and  let  him  explain 
fully  to  his  colonel.  Then,  with  Spigots  away  from  the 
command,  there  would  be  chance  of  hearing  that  other 
side  of  the  story  which  Wickham's  judgment  told  him 
must  exist.  Three  days  after  the  major  came  a  galloping 
courier,  via  Sandy,  with  a  vehement  letter  written  by 
Captain  Turner  and  forwarded  with  respectful  but  sug 
gestive  remarks  by  Hazlett.  This  letter  Wickham  showed 
confidentially  to  Pelham,  still  awaiting  developments  at 
headquarters,  and  things  were  looking  squally  for  Major 


94  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

Piggott,  when,  lo,  there  came  tidings  of  other  Indian 
uprisings  far  to  the  north,  of  a  massacre  under  the  lure 
of  the  sacred  flag  of  truce,  of  gallant  officers  and  palm- 
bearing  peace  commissioners  shot  down  in  cold  blood  by 
the  savages  who  had  sought  the  council.  Changes  and 
promotion  must  follow.  The  campaign  would  be  vig 
orously  pushed.  The  major  general  commanding  the 
division  needed  more  officers  at  once.  Major  Piggott, 
— th  Cavalry,  would  become  lieutenant  colonel  of  another, 
and  though  it  might  be  months  before  he  would  get  his 
commission,  it  need  not  be  many  days  before  he  took  his 
command.  Major  Piggott,  said  the  next  despatch,  "  will 
be  relieved  from  duty  in  the  Department  of  Arizona  and 
ordered  to  report  without  delay  at  these  headquarters," 
which  meant  San  Francisco.  And  Piggott  was  already 
here  at  Prescott.  There  was  really  nothing  for  Wickham 
to  do  but  bid  him  be  gone.  When  at  last  poor  Fane 
awakened  to  the  full  realization  of  the  wrong  that  had 
been  dealt  him,  the  man  mainly  responsible  was  many  a 
long  mile  beyond  hearing  the  chorus  of  condemnation 
chanted  in  his  honor. 

And  the  way  in  which  the  awakening  came  was  cruel 
in  a  marked  degree.  Fane  had  been  sitting  up  and  tod 
dling  about  in  the  warm  sunshine  of  an  Arizona  winter, 
and  the  sun  was  still  hot  at  noontide  in  the  valleys  west 
of  the  Mesa.  Something  in  the  packages  of  letters,  re 
ceived  weekly  since  his  severe  experience,  had  done  much 
to  bring  light,  hope  and  gladness  to  his  eyes  and  a  faint 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  95 

bloom  back  to  his  cheeks.  Everything  in  the  greeting  of 
his  brother  officers  and  in  the  regard  of  the  enlisted  men 
told  him  the  story  dear  to  every  soldier  heart — that  he 
had  won  the  solid  respect  of  both  seniors  and  juniors  and 
the  enthusiastic  devotion  and  admiration  of  the  rank  and 
file.  The  wounded,  especially  Hayden,  were  doing  well, 
and  Hayden's  expressions  of  love  and  gratitude  were  both 
frequent  and  embarrassing.  Still  something  was  amiss, 
as  Fane  could  not  but  feel — something  vague  and  in 
tangible.  He  had  noted  that  Turner  was  anxious  he 
should  sit  up  and  write  his  report  of  the  expedition  before 
the  doctors  wished  him  to  sit  up  at  all.  He  recalled  that 
Turner  finally  had  him  dictate  to  the  company  clerk,  a 
slow  and  cumbrous  process.  He  remembered  Turner's 
dissatisfaction  with  the  report.  "  You  give  all  credit  to 
Dolan,  Scott,  little  Sutton  and  other  men,"  said  he.  "  You 
say  nothing  about — well,  your  rescue  of  Hayden.  The 
men  can  hardly  talk  of  anything  else,  and — you  don't  go 
into  details  as  to  the  desperate  nature  of  the  situation 
there  at  the  tanks — something  to  make  it  thoroughly  clear 
that  you  had  to  turn  loose  your  prisoners."  Fane  said  it 
wasn't  his  province  to  tell  of  his  own  doings,  and  as  for 
the  release  of  the  prisoners  any  soldier  could  see  there 
was  no  way  to  hold  them.  And  still  Turner  seemed  dis 
satisfied. 

Then  Mrs.  Hazlett,  who  had  been  "  lovely "  to  him 
during  his  long  hours  of  pain  and  fever,  seemed  forever 
wanting  to  talk  about  letters  from  home  and  from  New 


96  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

York.  His  left  arm,  in  some  rigid  framework,  was 
strapped  to  his  side,  and  she  had  written  his  earliest  letters 
to  the  family  at  his  request.  She  had  also  addressed  the 
envelopes  of  the  letters,  penciled  every  day  and  sent  off 
once  a  week,  to  Her.  But  Mrs.  Hazlett  began  to  grow 
palpably  nervous  and  fitful  as  the  second  week  in  Decem 
ber  came,  and  a  few  days  more  would  bring  the  stage  with 
its  mail  bags,  and  to  the  coming  of  these  the  convalescing 
soldier  looked  forward  with  eager  and  intense  impa 
tience.  By  the  23d  or  24th  of  November  the  details  of 
the  battle  royal  between  his  command  and  the  overwhelm 
ing  force  of  Apaches  should  have  been  received  at  San 
Francisco  and  would  have  been  telegraphed  all  over  the 
East. 

By  the  25th  or  26th  letters  of  congratulation  would 
surely  be  penned  by  mother  and  the  girls  and  the  proud 
old  soldier  father,  and  by  the  fair,  jeweled  hand  he  loved 
to  picture  as  he  saw  it  last  July,  caressing  the  glossy 
mane  of  the  horse  she  loved.  By  the  27th  or  28th  such 
letters  should  be  speeding  westward  along  the  Mohawk. 
By  the  4th  they  should  have  left  'Frisco  for  the  fag  end 
of  the  railway.  By  the  6th  the  buckboard  should  have 
started  across  the  desert  with  them  from  the  Colorado 
crossing.  By  the  Qth  or  loth  they  should  be  at  Prescott, 
and  the  next  hebdomadal  trip  of  the  dust-covered,  canvas- 
topped,  spring-bottomed  stage  should  bring  them  with 
their  load  of  glowing  words — to  him. 

It  was  a  cruel  awakening.    Mrs.  Hazlett  had  not  had 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  97 

the  heart  to  tell  him  the  half,  or  indeed  even  a  little,  of 
what  she  feared.  She  had  begged  her  husband  and 
Turner  to  prepare  him,  and  they  had  shrunk  from  it. 
There  was  still  time,  she  argued.  The  stage  was  due 
Saturday  about  sunset — it  never  came  earlier,  and  Friday 
evening  or  Saturday  morning  she  would  seek  him  and 
gently  break  to  him  the  actual  nature  of  the  major's 
report. 

Friday  afternoon  at  four  who  should  come  riding  into 
the  post  from  the  old  Tonto  trail — the  road  to  McDowell, 
but  Al  Sieber — the  "  Scout  of  the  Sierras  " — with  a  Mexi 
can  packer  and  a  brace  of  mules.  "  They  asked  me  to 
fetch  along  the  letters,"  said  he,  to  Hazlett  and  Turner, 
who  were  first  to  meet  him.  "  Got  as  many  as  a  dozen 
for  Mr.  Fane,"  he  added,  as  though  he  were  unduly 
favored.  "  S'pose  he's  getting  along  all  right.  That 
young  fellow  didn't  seem  to  savvy  Indian  business,  did 
he? — And,  d'you  know,  I  somehow  expected  him  to  do 
better." 

"  How  could  he?  "  asked  Turner  bluntly. 

"  How  could  he  ?  Why,  they're  saying  at  McDowell 
and  Whipple  he  ran  his  nose  into  a  regular  plant,  and 
turned  loose  his  prisoners,  Solalay  and  all,  hopin'  that  that 
would  let  him  out." 

"  It's  a  d d  lie !  "  said  Turner  hotly.  Then  choked 

at  Hazlett's  warning  glance  and  uplifted  hand.  Fane, 
with  his  eyes  ablaze  and  a  red  spot  burning  in  each  cheek, 
stood  at  the  doorway  of  the  little  office.  He  had  heard 


98  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

every  syllable,  and  wrath  and  indignation  trembled  on 
his  tongue  as  he  strove  to  speak. 

"  Let  me — first,"  said  Hazlett,  as  impetuously  Fane 
came  striding  in.  "  Whoever  started  that  story,  Sieber, 
was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  facts — if  nothing  worse.  No, 
Fane,"  he  added  gently,  "  don't  attempt  to  speak  now. 
Your  captain  and  I  have  set  you  right — will  see  that  you 
are  set  right  everywhere." 

"  Well — gentlemen,  I'm  more  than  sorry,"  cried  honest 
Al,  all  confusion  and  contrition.  "  But,  why,  it's  that 
way  in  all  the  papers,  in  the  major's  report,  and — and  it 
isn't  so  at  all  ?  Oh,  I'm  d d  glad  of  it !  " 

"  It's  a  lie  and  a  shame,"  said  Turner  hotly  again. 
"  And  you  deny  it  on  my  authority  wherever  you  go. 
And  we've  sent  the  true  report.  Piggott  shall  swallow 
the  lie  before  he's  a  week  older." 

"  He  can't !  He's  gone  already,"  said  Sieber.  "  Ordered 
to  'Frisco  and  beyond.  There's  been  hell  to  pay  in  the 
Modoc  country." 

"  Come  with  me,  Fane,"  said  Turner  gently.  "  Come, 
and  we'll  get  the  letters  a  little  later."  But  Fane  would 
not  budge.  While  Sieber  went  on  with  the  details  of  the 
massacre,  the  adjutant  was  sorting  out  the  mail.  With 
a  thick  bunch  of  letters  in  his  one  available  hand  the  young 
soldier  left  the  office  and  shut  himself  in  his  room.  An 
hour  later  when  Turner  knocked  no  answer  came,  nor 
was  there  answer  to  successive  tapping.  He  turned  the 
knob,  entered  and  found  his  lieutenant  lying  face  down- 


A    SOLDIER'S    THREAT  99 

ward  on  the  little  white-covered  camp  bed,  the  floor  and 
coverlet  littered  with  newspaper  clippings  and  dozens  of 
closely  written  pages  in  three  or  four  different  hands. 
One  letter,  clutched  in  the  one  hand  left,  was  presently 
hurled  across  the  room  as  Turner  bent  over  the  bed,  and 
then  with  fearful  flush  in  his  face  and  with  fury  in  his 
bloodshot  eyes,  the  young  officer  staggered  to  his  feet  and 
thrust  back  the  outstretched  arm  of  Dr.  Evans,  who  came 
hurrying  in.  Clinching  his  right  hand  over  his  head, 
Fane  turned  on  his  friend  and  captain : 

"  By  the  God  that  made  me,  Captain  Turner,  if  I  have 
to  follow  that  blackguard  to  the  depths  of  hell,"  he  cried, 
"  I'll  thrash  the  truth  out  of  him — or  kill  him !  " 

And  this  was  before  the  fever  could  fairly  have  taken 
hold,  that  for  long  days  after  held  him  helpless  in  its 
grasp. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

WEEKS  went  by  and  many  a  change  came 
over  the  scene  and  actors  in  this  little  frontier 
drama.  The  personnel  at  Pluma  Blanca,  as  we 
found  it  in  the  fall  of  187 — ,  was  widely  scattered  by  the 
first  of  April.  Spigots  was  now  commanding  a  post  afar 
in  the  pine  forests  of  Washington.  Hazlett  most  deserv 
edly  had  been  awarded  the  recruiting  detail,  which  prom 
ised  two  years  in  civilization  for  him  and  his,  and  they 
were  now  visiting  old  Army  friends  at  Prescott  before 
starting  for  the  mouth  of  the  Colorado  and  the  sea  voyage 
round  to  the  Golden  Gate.  Turner  and  his  "  people," — a 
way  he  had  of  designating  his  soldiery  and  sorrels  both, — 
had  been  transferred  to  regimental  headquarters  at  Sandy, 
whither  Lieutenant  Fane  had  managed  to  make  the  ride, 
sometimes  by  mule  litter,  "  fore  and  aft,"  sometimes  in 
saddle,  to  which  he  could  no  longer  spring  as  of  old. 
Neither  could  he  comply  with  the  provisions  of  the  cav 
alry  tactics  of  the  day,  which  prescribed  that  he  should 
"  seize  a  wisp  of  the  mane  with  the  left  hand,"  the  left 
hand  and  arm  being  still  practically  useless,  the  latter  still 
in  its  framework  strapped  to  the  side.  Moreover,  Fane 
had  not  been  mending  as  was  to  be  expected  of  a  young 

100 


THE    MEDAL'  HONOR  101 

fellow  of  sound  constitution  •  and 'gbbcT Health  and  Habits. 
Fane  had  had  weeks  of  high  fever,  followed  by  others  ©f 
low  spirits  and  vitality.  Captain  and  Mrs.  Hazlett,  alone, 
were  in  position  to  tell  the  real  cause  or  causes,  and  they 
would  not.  There  was  one  period  of  four  weeks  in  mid 
winter  during  which  these  loyal  friends  of  the  patient  had 
taken  entire  charge  of  his  letters  and  correspondence,  and 
the  missive  Hazlett  wrote  to  General  Fane  after  reading 
the  old  soldier's  letter  to  his  son,  and  the  letters  Mrs.  Haz 
lett  wrote  to  the  mother  and  sisters  after  reading  both 
these  and  the  newspaper  clippings,  threw  that  army  house 
hold  into  a  paroxysm  of  mingled  rejoicing,  triumph,  and 
self-reproach.  But  the  two  letters,  combined,  sent  the 
brave  old  division  commander  of  the  war  days  into  the 
seclusion  of  his  "  den,"  where,  on  his  knees,  he  sobbed  out 
his  thanks  to  the  Merciful  Father  that  the  rebuke  was  de 
served,  that  his  boy  had  proved  himself  a  man  and  a  sol 
dier,  that  it  was  now  his  turn, — the  foolish,  the  improvi 
dent,  the  father  of  little  faith, — to  sue  for  forgiveness  and 
to  pour  forth  from  humbled  and  chastened  heart  the  sad 
story  of  his  debts  and  entanglements.  "  I  cannot  long 
bear  up  under  it,  my  boy,"  he  wrote.  "  There  is  no  hope 
now  of  my  getting  a  star  before  retirement.  It  goes  to 
your  Gray  Fox,  and  he  deserves  it,  though  it  lifts  him 
over  every  colonel  in  the  army.  So  after  all  there  will 
only  be  for  a  year  or  two  the  three-quarters'  pay  of  a 
colonel,  then  a  miserable  little  ten-thousand-dollar  life 
insurance  for  your  mother  and  the  girls.  Pet  could 


102  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

marry  any  day,  and  probably  will  marry  before  long. 
Clare  could  have  married  three  times  over,  but  we  all 
thought  our  beauty  should  not  be  thrown  away  on  the 
army,  and  looked,  God  help  us,  for  a  brilliant  match  for 
a  girl  without  a  dollar  of  dot.  As  for  Jane, — our  plain, 
practical,  spinster  Jane,  she  seems  to  have  been  the  one 
level-headed  member  of  the  family.  She  has  been  study 
ing  while  the  others  have  been  flirting  and  dancing.  She 
will  be  a  help  to  you  in  caring  for  the  mother  and  for 
Clare  when  I  am  laid  away.  The  old  wounds  bite  sorely, 
as  will  yours  in  days  to  come,  my  boy,  but  may  God  spare 
you  the  mental  pangs,  the  humiliation  and  distress  that 
have  bowed  my  old  head.  I'd  gladly  go  to-day — only  that 
would  leave  them  with — nothing." 

This  letter  had  contributed  little  to  Fane's  recovery, 
though  it  killed  the  last  vestige  of  rancor  he  felt  that  his 
soldier  father  should  so  readily  have  accepted  the  first 
published  stories  of  the  savage  fight  at  Tonto  Pass.  He 
thought  it,  as  did  Hazlett  and  his  wife,  a  deed  of  unnec 
essary,  unjustifiable  harshness  that  in  his  chagrin  the  stern 
old  father  should  have  gathered  up  every  newspaper  that 
referred  to  the  matter,  editorially  or  otherwise,  and  cut 
out  paragraphs  and  bundled  them  all  into  his  letters  and 
asked  his  son  how  he  expected  him,  brevet  major  general 
of  the  regular  service  for  gallantry  on  a  dozen  fields,  to 
face  his  officers  and  men,  well  knowing  they  were  jeering 
over  the  disgrace  of  his  only  son.  Heavens,  but  it  was 
hard! 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR  103 

Yet  it  brought  prompt  reaction, — retribution  even, — 
as  we  have  seen.  To  begin  with,  General  Fane's  officers 
and  men  were  far  from  jeering  over  the  story.  They 
honored  and  loved  their  brave,  blunt,  straightforward  old 
colonel,  though  they  had  not  begun  at  that  time  to  esti 
mate  press  descriptions  of  military  affairs  at  their  proper 
value.  Even  those  who  gave  credence  to  the  story  felt 
sympathy  and  sorrow  for  the  father.  One  officer,  indeed, 
was  there  who  hailed  from  the  same  State  as  Piggott,  who 
knew  him  by  reputation,  who  declared  that  there  would 
be  another  side  to  the  story,  and  who  proved  to  be  a  true 
prophet,  for  it  was  not  many  weeks  before  the  very  papers 
that  had  teemed  with  talk  about  "  the  weak-kneed  lieu 
tenant  who  had  surrendered  Solalay  and  his  murderous 
gang,"  began,  of  course  without  withdrawing  anything 
previously  said  to  his  grievous  detriment,  to  publish  para 
graphs  to  the  effect  that  there  had  been  the  severest  kind 
of  a  fight;  that  Lieutenant  Fane,  in  spite  of  serious 
wounds,  had  behaved  with  bravery  and  commanded  with 
skill  and  judgment.  Still,  first  stories  and  first  impres 
sions  are  hard  to  eradicate.  For  long  weeks  and  months 
and  in  many  a  city  and  community  Fane  was  known  as 
the  officer  who  led  his  men  into  ambush  and  weakly  sur 
rendered  the  prizes  of  the  whole  campaign,  rather  than  as 
the  man  honored  and  envied  in  the  — th  Cavalry  and  all 
the  territory  as  the  first  officer  to  be  recommended  by  the 
new  brigadier  general,  their  tried  old  leader,  the  Gray 
Fox,  for  the  coveted  medal  of  honor. 


104  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Nor  had  this  result  been  brought  about  spontaneously. 
It  was  the  sight  of  those  press  clippings,  and  a  peep  at 
certain  lines  in  General  Fane's  first  letter,  that  stirred 
Hazlett  and  Turner  to  the  exercise  of  their  full  powers. 
Up  to  that  time  they  had  contented  themselves  with  con 
tradicting  Piggott's  report  and  giving  department  head 
quarters  the  correct  version.  Now,  with  one  accord  and 
the  enthusiastic  backing  of  such  soldiers  as  Dolan,  Scott, 
and,  in  fine,  the  whole  department,  they  laid  siege  first  on 
Pelham,  then  on  the  commanding  general,  once  again 
established  at  Prescott.  Fane,  as  soon  as  able  to  write, 
demanded  a  court  of  inquiry,  but  even  before  this  was 
received  by  Wickham  there  had  gone  forward  to 
"  Frisco  "  a  full  description  of  the  combat  in  Tonto  Pass, 
written  by  Captain  Turner  from  the  accounts  given  by 
members  of  the  detachment,  with  especial  reference  to  the 
heroic  rescue  of  Trooper  Hayden  by  his  wounded  and 
suffering  commander.  It  was  supported  by  the  affidavits 
and  personal  accounts  of  every  soldier  survivor  of  the 
affray,  and  when  at  last  Fane  was  "  littered  "  in  to  Sandy 
it  was  to  be  feted,  welcomed,  lionized  as  never  before  had 
he  dared  to  dream.  The  general  himself  drove  down 
from  Prescott,  fifty  miles  over  the  roughest  kind  of  moun 
tain  road,  personally  to  greet  and  thank  and  encourage 
the  young  soldier,  and  to  say  to  him  that,  just  as  soon  as 
he  was  pronounced  able  to  travel,  he  should  be  sent  by  sea 
to  San  Francisco  and  granted  a  sick  leave  in  which  to 
recuperate  fully  before  rejoining  the  regiment. 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR  105 

But  here,  too,  at  Sandy  the  surgeons  shook  their  heads. 
"  That  arm  won't  heal  in  months,"  said  they ;  the  more 
radical,  like  old  Scotty  Graham,  holding  that  it  should 
have  come  off  at  the  start.  Then  the  general  went  back 
to  headquarters,  and  presently  down  came  the  medical 
director,  and  he,  too,  looked  grave  after  a  long  hour's 
study  of  the  still  angry  gap  in  the  upper  arm.  "  We  can 
patch  him  up  in  April  and  send  him  along,"  was  his  re 
port  to  the  chief,  "  but  I  can't  foretell  the  issue." 

Perhaps  had  Mrs.  Hazlett  been  asked  to  speak  she 
might  have  told  how  anxieties,  sorer  even  than  that  sore 
wound,  were  preying  on  her  interesting  patient,  but  noth 
ing  would  have  induced  Mrs.  Hazlett  to  tell  of  the  thing 
that,  more  than  all  others,  told  most  heavily  upon  his 
spirits  and  barred  his  recovery.  There  had  come  some 
unlooked-for,  and  apparently  insurmountable,  estrange 
ment  between  Fane  and  that  distant  girl  he  so  dearly 
loved.  No  letter  had  been  exchanged  since  the  end  of 
January,  and  yet  Mrs.  Hazlett  believed  his  love  to  be  an 
swered  in  full,  believed  that  girl  would  even  then  gladly 
have  left  her  luxurious  surroundings  in  the  East  and 
would  even  have  dared  the  long  journey  to  the  wilds  of 
the  wildest  West  to  join  and  be  joined  to  her  soldier  lover, 
to  comfort  him  in  his  bodily  suffering  and  in  his  severe 
and  undeserved  distress  of  mind.  Yet,  when  Mrs.  Haz 
lett  gently  strove  to  make  him  tell  her  the  cause  of  the 
trouble,  he  either  could  or  would  not.  "  Is  it  not  best  to 
have  it  so?"  he  asked.  "What  right  have  I  to  seek  a 


106  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

wife  when  any  day  I  may  become  sole  support  of  a 
grown-up  family  ?  " 

They  succeeded,  did  the  surgeons,  as  they  said.  They 
patched  him  up  in  the  course  of  several  weeks,  and  the 
general's  letters  and  despatches  in  his  behalf  had  been 
answered  in  full.  They  were  to  send  him  by  stage  to  the 
Colorado,  with  a  careful  attendant,  thence  down  that  shal 
low,  sand-barred,  desolate  stream  to  the  sea-going  craft 
at  anchor  in  the  gulf.  Indefinite  leave  on  surgeon's  cer 
tificate  would  be  granted  after  he  had  been  overhauled 
professionally  at  division  headquarters,  but  meanwhile 
and  beforehand  a  certain  ceremony  was  to  be  enacted  at 
the  main  station  of  his  famous  regiment.  No  less  than 
six  of  its  troops  were  assembled  at  Camp  Sandy.  Four 
companies  of  infantry,  too,  were  to  be  present  to  take 
part.  The  general  and  his  staff  would  be  down  from 
Prescott.  The  Court  of  Inquiry  had  been  set  aside  as 
unnecessary,  its  possible  action,  said  the  final  authorities, 
being  anticipated  and  rendered  wholly  unnecessary  by  the 
formal  presentation  of  the  Medal  of  Honor. 

It  was  the  greatest  event  and  finest  sight  ever  known  at 
Sandy.  About  the  tall,  white  flagstaff,  just  as  the  setting 
sun  was  gilding  the  eastward  mountains,  lighting  with 
dazzling  splendor  the  bold  cliffs  beyond  the  stream  and 
throwing  long  shadows  across  the  barren  level  of  the 
parade,  on  three  sides  of  a  square,  facing  inward,  the  ten 
companies  were  paraded,  officers  at  their  posts,  the  cav 
alry  afoot.  The  band  of  the  — th  was  stationed  in  circle 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR  107 

at  the  base  of  the  flagstaff.  The  great  garrison  colors, 
then  a  feature  of  the  large  forts  or  cantonments  on  na 
tional  holidays,  had  been  hoisted  to  the  peak  and  hung 
almost  without  a  ripple  in  the  breathless  air.  Standing 
at  ease,  the  command  awaited  the  approach  of  a  group  of 
officers  still  hovering  about  the  porch  of  the  commanding 
officer's  quarters.  Women  were  few  in  number  so  early 
in  the  days  of  our  dominion,  but  a  pretty  show  they  made, 
— the  dozen  that  were  there, — gathered  even  from  Whip- 
pie  Barracks  and  the  old  agency  to  reinforce  the  sister 
hood  of  Sandy.  The  daintiest  toilets  had  they  donned  in 
honor  of  the  occasion,  Mrs.  Wilkins  especially  being  as 
resplendent  as  she  was  conspicuous  ("  Both  for  bulk  and 
brogue,"  said  Blake,  who  was  up  with  his  troop  from 
McDowell),  and  Mrs.  Hazlett,  obviously  excited  and  flus 
tered  as  she  had  never  before  been  known  to  be.  Pres 
ently  the  group  of  officers  moved  slowly  toward  them,  the 
Gray  Fox  in  their  midst.  Never  before  had  one  member 
of  the  garrison  seen  him — seldom  had  they  seen  each 
other — in  even  that  modification  of  the  bill  of  dress  that 
in  Arizona  passed  for  full  uniform.  In  the  party  were 
Wickham,  the  black-bearded  chief  of  staff,  close  at  the 
general's  elbow,  and  Blithe  and  Rossiter,  the  aides-de 
camp,  and  Major  Little,  chief  commissary,  and  his  burly 
associate,  the  chief  quartermaster.  There  were  two  or 
three  regimental  officers  from  neighboring  camps,  and 
finally,  on  the  other  flank  of  the  general,  escorting  these, 
came  "  Old  Catnip,"  the  much  loved  colonel  of  the  — th, 


108  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

followed  by  his  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  the  post  sur 
geons  and  the  chaplain.  Back  of  the  ranks,  that  sprang 
to  attention  at  the  approach  of  the  distinguished  party, 
were  grouped  by  scores  the  wives  and  children  of  the  sol 
diers,  mingling  with  the  civilian  employees,  the  scouts  and 
packers ;  back  of  them  all  even  the  Apache  prisoners,  some 
still  burdened  with  ball  and  chain,  drawn  up  in  sullen, 
wondering  rank,  close  watched  by  their  silent,  vigilant 
guards. 

As  they  neared  the  open  side  of  the  martial  square  it 
was  characteristic  of  the  general  commanding  that  he 
should  seem  to  draw  back  and  let  Pelham  take  the  lead, 
He  lacked  the  nerve  of  Mrs.  Wilkins,  whose  burly,  red- 
faced  lord,  but  by  no  means  master,  stood  meekly  in  the 
line  of  file  closers  of  his  troop,  the  oldest  lieutenant  on  the 
active  list,  surveying  the  scene  between  the  heads  of 
the  center  men  of  the  first  platoon.  Mrs.  Wilkins,  with 
superb  disdain  of  the  conventionalities,  stepped  boldly 
forth  from  the  bevy  of  women  f oik  >  and  led  the  way. 
"  Sure  we'll  never  hear  the  furrst  wurred  he  says  at  this 
distance,"  said  she.  ("  Nor  the  last  that  she  says,"  mut 
tered  Blake  to  his  chin  strap,  and  the  quivering  delight 
of  big  Sergeant  Moriarity,  his  nearest  neighbor.)  "  Come 
on,  leedies,"  and  led  the  way  to  the  square,  nor  paused 
until  she  reached  a  point  within  whispering  distance  of 
the  official  group,  the  sisterhood  timidly  following.  Wick- 
ham  had  just  handed  a  paper  to  the  adjutant,  Truscott, 
who,  tall,  slender  and  erect,  by  long  odds  the  most  dis- 


THE    MEDAL    OP    HONOR  109 

tinguished-looking  man  of  the  party,  strode  a  few  paces 
forward,  and  then  in  deep,  powerful  baritone  began  to 
read,  every  word  carrying  to  the  remotest  corner  of  the 
wide  parade. 

The  document  was  brief  and  strictly  official.  It  recited 
that  under  the  authority  of  the  Secretary  of  War  and 
after  due  investigation  by  the  Inspector  General,  the 
records  of  the  Department  of  Arizona,  based  upon  the 
report  of  the  commanding  officer  at  Fort  Pluma  Blanca, 
of  December  3,  187 — ,  and  referring  to  the  action  in 

Tonto  Pass  November  between  a  detachment  of 

twenty  men  of  the  — th  Cavalry,  under  command  of  First 
Lieutenant  Ronald  Fane  of  that  regiment,  and  a  band  of 
Apaches  estimated  at  no  less  than  three  hundred  and  fifty, 
would  be  amended  to  read  as  follows :  "  The  position  at 
the  tanks  was  stubbornly  held  until  three  men  and  all  but 
four  horses  had  been  killed  and  several  men  had  been 
wounded.  To  remain  there  invited  the  slow  annihilation 
of  the  little  command.  To  transfer  the  survivors  with 
their  wounded  to  a  point  of  shelter  up  the  northward 
slope  demanded  both  skill  and  daring.  To  longer  hold 
and  care  for  the  Apache  prisoners  was  impossible.  The 
movement  was  admirably  conducted  by  Lieutenant  Fane 
and  with  the  loss  of  but  a  single  trooper,  whose  leg  was 
shattered.  In  a  daring  but  unfortunately  unsuccessful 
effort  to  bear  this  wounded  man  to  shelter,  Sergeant  Dolan 
was  painfully  wounded  and  Trooper  Sinclair  shot  dead. 
Later,  all  unaided  and  in  face  of  deadly  fire,  Lieutenant 


110  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Fane,  who  had  already  been  nearly  blinded  by  an  arrow, 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  exhausted  soldier,  and  at  the 
imminent  risk  of  his  own  life  bore  him  eighty  yards  to  a 
point  of  refuge.  The  conduct  of  the  officer  commanding 
and  of  his  little  party,  seven  of  whom  in  all  were  shot 
dead  or  succumbed  to  their  wounds,  and  most  of  whom 
were  more  or  less  severely  wounded,  reflects  the  greatest 
credit  upon  themselves,  upon  the  regiment  and  the  entire 
army.  The  release  of  the  prisoners  was  a  military 
necessity. 

"  And  now  it  is  the  privilege  of  the  department  com 
mander  to  announce  that,  based  upon  the  recommendation 
of  the  commanding  officer,  Fort  Pluma  Blanca,  concurred 
in  by  the  generals  commanding  the  department,  the  divi 
sion  and  the  army,  the  President  has  been  pleased  to  di 
rect  "  (here  Truscott's  voice  rang  out  so  that  every  word 
told  like  a  shot)  "  that  the  Medal  of  Honor  be  awarded  as 
follows:  First,  For  daring  and  devotion  in  having,  at 
the  imminent  risk  of  his  life  and  in  face  of  heavy  fire  from 
surrounding  Indians,  left  his  shelter  and  though  painfully 
wounded  and  nearly  blind,  succeeded  in  reaching  and 
bearing  unaided  to  a  place  of  safety  a  private  soldier,  help 
less  from  a  shattered  leg,— First  Lieutenant  Ronald  Fane, 
— th  U.  S.  Cavalry. 

"  Second :  For  daring  and  devotion  in  having,  at  the 
imminent  risk  of  his  life  and  in  face  of  heavy  fire  from 
surrounding  Indians,  left  his  shelter,  succeeded  in  reach 
ing  and  partially  succoring  a  comrade,  helpless  from  a 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR  111 

shattered  leg,  in  which  effort  his  one  associate  was  shot 
dead  and  he  himself  nearly  succumbed  to  loss  of  blood 
from  wounds  received— Sergeant  Patrick  Dolan,  Troop 
L,  — th  Cavalry. 

"  Third :  A  medal  suitably  inscribed  has  been  sent 
direct  to  the  mother  of  Private  Ralph  Sinclair,  Troop  L, 
— th  Cavalry,  in  recognition  of  the  daring  and  devotion  of 
this  brave  soldier,  who  sacrificed  his  own  life  in  joint 
effort  with  Sergeant  Dolan  to  rescue  a  helpless  comrade, 
quitting  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  and  voluntarily  exposing 
himself  to  what  proved  to  be  certain  death.  The  annals 
of  the  Department  contain  no  nobler  examples  of  soldier 
heroism  than  these. 

"  By  command  of  Brigadier  General  Crook." 

Then  Truscott  folded  the  paper,  and  then  his  voice  was 
heard  again: 

"  The  officer  and  non-commissioned  officer  thus  desig 
nated  will  step  to  the  front  and  center." 

Together  they  came,  side  by  side,  though  brave  old 
Dolan,  taken  utterly  by  surprise,  trembling  in  every  limb 
and  with  his  lips  twitching  frantically,  hung  back  and 
would  have  followed  had  not  Fane,  whose  own  face  was 
well-nigh  colorless  with  emotion,  observed  this  and  would 
not  so  have  it.  The  whole  troop, — yes,  half  the  square 
heard  his  low-toned  words,  almost  in  command,  as  the 
two  faltered  a  moment  in  front  of  the  standard : — "  No, 
sir.  It  was  shoulder  to  shoulder  that  day.  It's  side  by 
side  now !  " 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Together  they  advanced,  the  slender,  almost  undersized 
subaltern,  his  wreck  of  an  arm  still  slung  beneath  his  coat, 
his  empty  sleeve  still  looped  across  his  body,  and  on  his 
left,  tall,  powerful,  with  weather-beaten  face  and  grizzled 
hair,  the  veteran  non-commissioned  officer — both  men 
tremulous,  both  men  silent,  both  staring  straight  ahead 
even  when  they  halted  and  the  right  hands  came  up  in 
simultaneous  salute.  The  general  stepped  before  them. 
Blithe  at  his  heels,  bearing  the  almost  priceless  trophies 
when  so  won  and  so  presented.  The  kindly,  bearded  face 
of  the  famous  leader  twitched  a  bit  in  sympathy  with 
those  of  the  two  soldiers  he  would  so  signally  honor.  His 
steel  blue  eyes  were  blinking.  He  could  hardly  find  voice 
to  murmur  just  a  few  simple  words  of  congratulation  as 
he  pinned  the  medal  upon  the  breast  of  each,  shook  each 
heartily  by  the  hand,  and  then  half  turned  to  Wickham. 
Instantly  the  staff  pressed  forward;  Truscott's  gloved 
hand  waved  to  the  leader;  the  exultant,  thrilling  strains 
of  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  burst  upon  the  evening  air 
and — those  were  the  days  before  the  army  had  taken  to 
the  beautiful  and  ceremonious  homage  that  came  in  with 
a  later  generation — Pelham  signaled  joyously  to  his  troop 
commanders ;  "  Rest "  was  the  longed  for  word  that  let 
loose  the  pent  up  enthusiasm  of  some  six  hundred  soldier 
spirits,  and  then  followed  cheer  upon  cheer.  Cheers  for 
the  General:  cheers  for  the  President:  cheers  for  Lieu 
tenant  Fane  "  that  we'd  wade  through  hell  for,"  shouted 
the  sergeant  major — cheers,  frantic  cheers  for  Sergeant 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR  113 

Pat  Dolan  "  that  hasn't  the  bate  of  him  in  all  the  army," 
and  there  was  none  to  rebuke  or  repress  them,  for  the 
officers  joined  in,  doubly  perhaps  for  Dolan,  and  mean 
while  the  recipients  had  been  passed  on  to  the  greeting 
of  man  after  man,  of  woman  after  woman,  and  there  were 
smiles  and  tears  and  clasping  hands  and  fervent  praise 
and  glad  congratulation ;  and,  in  this  wise,  honored,  feted, 
envied  even  among  his  kind,  Fane  bade  farewell,  for  a 
time  at  least,  to  comrades  among  whom  there  lived  no 
man  but  held  him  in  esteem,  many  in  affection,  many  even 
in  reverence,  called  to  face  a  condition  hitherto  hardly 
dreamed  of,  and  to  begin  a  new  life  in  a  world  hitherto 
unknown. 


PART  III 
THE  PATHS  OF  PEACE 


CHAPTER  I 

IN    CLASSIC    SHADES 

THE  soft  haze  of  Indian  summer  had  replaced  the 
glare,  the  sharp  outlines,  the  dazzling  high  lights 
of  the  Western  landscape.  The  lake  lay  still  and 
flawless,  framed  in  mellow  crimson,  rich,  ruddy  browns 
and  gold.  Oak  and  maple,  sumach  and  sycamore  mingled 
in  the  gorgeous  bordering  of  the  silvery  flood.  On  leaf 
and  vine  and  tendril  the  early  frosts  displayed  their  filmy 
drapery  late  into  each  opening  day.  The  grasses  bowed 
beneath  their  weight  of  sparkling  dew.  The  air  was  athrill 
with  life — exhilaration — vigor,  and  deep  laden  with  its 
gift  of  ozone,  its  train  of  forest  odors,  its  faint  fragrance 
of  pungent  smoke  wreaths.  The  squirrels  frisked  and 
chattered  in  the  branches  overhead.  The  long-eared  rab 
bits  darted  zig-zag  through  the  shrubbery.  Out  in  the 
stubble  fields  beyond  the  winding,  suburban  wood  roads 
Bob  White  was  piping  loud  and  clear,  while  his  shy, 
brown-breasted  mate  led  joyously  her  pretty  bustling 
brood.  Aloft,  saluted  by  an  hundred  guns,  brave  flocks 
of  blue-winged  teal,  red-heads  and  mallards  drove  south 
ward  in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  earliest  sunshine,  seeking 
distant,  sedgy  refuge  for  another  night.  Far  and  near, 
from  clustering  roofs  and  scattered  homesteads,  from  lofty 

117 


118  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

tapering  towers  in  low  ground  and  cottage  chimneys  on 
the  distant,  haze-dimmed  heights  smoke  clouds  soared  on 
high  with  never  a  breath  of  breeze  to  swerve  them  from 
their  zenith  flight.  The  deep-toned  bell  that  chimed  the 
hour  of  six  while  yet  the  day  god  dozed  beneath  the  east 
ward  wave  now  tolled  forth  one  single,  solemn  note  to 
mark  the  half.  Church  tower  and  city  hall  among  the  dis 
tant  buildings  gave  answering,  harsher  clang.  A  railway 
whistle  from  far  across  the  mist-wreathed  waters  shrilled 
its  salutation  to  the  waking  town  as  the  long,  unseen 
train,  dull-roaring  round  some  rocky  scarp,  came  whirling 
from  the  night  to  meet  the  glory  of  the  new-born  day,  its 
single  and  bleary  eye,  so  forceful  but  the  hour  agone,  now 
"  paling  its  ineffectual  fires  "  in  the  face  of  nature's  all- 
pervading  headlight.  Then,  unaccustomed  sound  in  such 
surroundings,  over  among  the  wooded  heights  above  the 
lapping  shore  line,  quick,  spirited  and  martial,  a  bugle 
thrilled  the  tune  of  the  army  reveille,  and  to  the  peak  of  a 
lance-like  staff  above  the  sparkling  foliage  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,  in  miniature,  soared,  fluttering  a  moment,  then  fell 
again  asleep  and  hung  drowsing  in  the  pulseless  air. 

Here  at  the  brink  of  the  silent  waters,  midway  between 
the  grove-covered  bluff  and  the  bowered  dwellings  on  the 
edge  of  town,  a  pathway,  broad  and  level,  followed  the 
curving  strand;  and  suddenly,  swift  stepping  round  a 
rocky  ledge,  there  came  into  view  a  single  figure,  a  soldier, 
one  would  say,  even  had  there  been  no  sign  of  soldier 
dress  about  him.  But  this  man  wore  the  jaunty  kepi  of 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  119 

the  cavalry.  A  dark  blue  cape,  or  circular,  muffled  his 
form  from  the  shoulder  well  down  to  the  thigh.  Below 
it,  straight,  sinewy  legs  in  regulation  yellow-striped,  snug- 
fitting  trousers  strode  briskly  on.  Under  the  kepi  and 
above  the  cape,  mustached  and  thin,  was  a  face  we  last 
saw  among  the  sands  of  Arizona.  That  was  barely  six 
months  agone.  This  was  Fane,  looking  surely  more  than 
six  months  older. 

Strange  things — many  things — can  come  to  pass  within 
a  sixmonth,  and  strange  things,  many  things,  sad  things, 
had  come  to  pass  with  Fane.  As  feared,  indeed  as  self- 
predicted,  the  soldier  father  had  been  laid  away  in  the 
beautiful  old  cemetery  at  the  Point,  without  ever  a  chance 
to  gather  his  boy  to  his  heart,  without  ever  having  seen 
that  priceless  medal  of  honor.  As  feared  and  as  pre 
dicted,  there  was  even  less  than  the  little  life  insurance 
for  the  mother  and  for  Clare,  to  whom  both  Jane  and 
Pet  had  resolutely  and  fondly  surrendered  their  little 
share,  sturdily  saying  they  would  never  need  it.  Jane  had 
found  a  teacher's  berth  in  a  Western  college,  aided 
thereto  by  a  trustee  who  in  by-gone  days  had  led  a  regi 
ment  in  the  father's  division.  Pet  had  given  her  hand 
and  heart  to  a  soldier,  instead  of  the  stock-broker  favored 
by  mamma.  Clare,  who  had  turned  down,  supposedly,  so 
many  a  swain,  was  now  without  so  much  as  even  an 
officer  offer.  She  and  the  sorrowing  mother,  with  many 
a  backward  glance  and  rueful  sigh,  had  looked  perhaps 
their  last  upon  the  revelry  and  riches  of  Newport,  New 


120  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

London  and  Narragansett  Pier,  and  had  meekly  gone  with 
Ronald  to  a  students'  boarding  house  in  that  same  West 
ern  college  town.  It  was  the  best  that  he  or  they 
could  do. 

And  even  this,  in  large  measure,  they  owed  to  plain, 
pragmatical  Jane.  The  "  Foundation  "  was  not  wealthy ; 
the  Faculty  was  large;  the  salaries  were  distributed  ac 
cordingly.  It  was  one  of  the  co-educational  institutions 
then  in  their  experimental  stage.  It  was  a  State  institu 
tion,  its  Faculty  being  in  large  measure  dependent  upon 
and  dominated  by  its  Board  of  Trustees,  who,  being  poli 
ticians  as  a  rule,  were  in  no  small  measure  and  in  turn 
dominated  by  the  student  body.  The  Governor  of  the 
State  chose  the  Trustees,  the  Trustees  the  Faculty,  and  the 
sovereign  student,  hailing  from  every  section  of  the  State, 
had  no  little  voice,  had  indeed  considerable  influence,  in 
choosing  all  three,  a  fact  the  President  of  the  Board  well 
knew  and  over  well  considered.  It  was  to  this  far  Wes 
tern  seat  of  learning  Jeannette  Fane,  "  Plain  Jane  Fane," 
as  she  persisted  in  styling  herself,  had  been  summoned  to 
report  the  I5th  of  September,  and  had  gone  the  I5th  of 
August,  to  "  shake  herself  down,"  she  said,  and  study  her 
surroundings.  As  a  young  girl,  late  in  the  war  when  the 
beloved  soldier  father  lay  wounded  in  hospital  after  Nash 
ville,  she  had  met  and  known  and  been  much  admired  by 
the  silent  colonel  of  volunteers  who  so  often  limped  in  on 
his  crutches  to  ask  for  his  general,  to  salute  his  general's 
wife,  and  to  see  his  general's  daughter.  But  the  colonel 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES 

thought  himself  far  plainer  than  the  others  thought  Jane. 
A  square,  straightforward  business  man  was  he,  and  the 
general's  wife  knew  naught  of  Western  ways  and  scouted 
Western  manners.  They  were  days  when  "  Mrs.  Gen 
eral  "  looked  forward  to  the  command  of  the  army,  and 
her  lofty  disdain  had  been  too  much  for  him  whom  even 
Grant  declared  a  typical  volunteer  soldier  and  a  model 
man.  He  used  to  write  to  his  old  general  sometimes 
after  the  war,  which  led  to  Mrs.  General's  pronouncing 
him  "  pushing."  Pushing  he  was  in  a  way  that  told. 
He  pushed  in  his  profession.  He  pushed  in  politics. 
He  pushed  and  prospered  in  property  and  real  estate.  He 
would  gladly  have  asked  Jeannette  Fane,  fifteen  years  his 
junior,  to  be  his  wife  in  '65,  but  he  couldn't  face  the  awful 
condescension  of  the  mother.  He  married  a  local  heiress 
four  years  later,  and  still  he  never  lost  his  love  for  his 
aging  division  commander.  He  was  prominent  as  a  trus 
tee  of  the  State  Co-educational  College  when  the  news 
reached  him  of  that  veteran's  prostration.  "  Largely 
due,  it  is  believed,"  said  a  zealous  journalist  "  to  dis 
appointment  in  his  only  son,  whose  incapacity  as  an 
officer  was  so  strongly  manifested  in  the  recent  cam 
paign."  That  was  early  in  the  year,  and  not  an 
hour  did  the  colonel  lose  in  tendering  sympathy  and 
aid.  It  was  Jane  who  answered  at  her  father's  behest, 
and  then  this  married  model  man  wrote  presently  to  her. 
He  wrote  again,  congratulating  all  when  the  real  news 
came  from  Arizona  and  the  honored  name  was  on  so  many 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

a  lip.  He  wrote  still  again  in  condolence  and  sympathy, 
when,  early  in  May,  the  telegraphic  columns  announced 
the  death  of  that  gallant  veteran  of  the  Army  of  the  Cum 
berland,  and  then  a  few  weeks  later  came  a  black-edged 
missive  from  the  girl  he  had  not  seen  since  March  in  '65. 
Her  sorrowful  little  story  was  no  surprise  to  him.  She 
asked  his  aid  in  getting  a  place  as  teacher  in  the  public 
schools.  The  answer  came  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from 
the  colonel  trustee's  wife,  inviting  her  to  make  their 
house  her  home,  at  least  until  she  could  find  something 
she  liked  better,  and  within  it  was  a  missive  from  the 
Secretary  of  the  Board  to  the  effect  that  an  additional  in 
structor  was  needed  in  the  Department  of  Mathematics. 
The  salary  was  necessarily  small  at  the  start,  but  would 
be  gradually  increased  as  she  gained  experience  in  the 
work,  which  would  be  mainly  in  geometry  and  trigo 
nometry.  Jane  left  the  family  circle  sorrowing  much  at 
her  decision,  but  Ronald,  at  least,  realized  the  necessity. 
Already  he  was  seeking  something  to  do  that  should  eke 
out  his  little  stipend.  The  arm  had  knit  and  was  out  of 
its  sling,  but  a  mere  wreck  of  its  old  self,  limp  and 
shrunken,  still  unhealed  and  requiring  daily  dressing,  a 
source  of  frequent  irritation,  if  not  of  incessant  pain. 
They  were  spending  the  summer  at  a  quiet,  inexpensive 
resort  on  the  Long  Island  shore,  "  far  from  the  madding 
crowd  "  and  the  scenes  so  dear  to  mamma  and  Clare  in 
the  days  of  their  now  fallen  empire.  Once  each  week 
R@nald  went  by  boat  to  the  nearest  army  station  for  sur- 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES 

gical  treatment.  Once  each  month  the  surgeon  renewed 
the  certificate  that  he  was  unfit  for  active  duty.  Once 
every  day  the  mail  came,  generally  with  no  response  and 
never  with  favorable,,  to  his  frequent  letters  soliciting 
temporary  employment.  Not  until  September  was  there 
light  of  any  kind.  Then  it  came  through  Jane.  Even 
before  her  own  duties  had  begun  she  had  found  something 
that  might  be  a  help  to  Ronald,  and  through  him  to  all. 

The  college  is  entitled  to  the  services  of  an  army  officer  as 
instructor  in  drill  and  tactics,  so  Colonel  West  informs  me,  and 
it  seems  that  by  law,  having  accepted  certain  grants  of  land 
from  the  government,  it  is  required  to  maintain  instruction  in 
military  tactics  and  diccipline,  but  in  some  way  the  system  has 
fallen  into  disuse.  The  colonel  says  that  Major  Pitt,  who  used 
to  be  here,  and  his  successor,  Lieutenant  Strang,  received  extra 
pay  from  the  college,  and,  though  it  cannot  be  promised,  he 
believes  that  at  the  winter  meeting  of  the  board  they  will  be 
glad  to  vote  six  hundred  dollars  or  so,  especially  if  you  make 
a  success  of  it.  He  says  that  if  you  care  to  try  it  he  will 
have  application  made  at  once.  The  detail  is  for  three  years. 
It  costs  much  less  to  live  here  than  East.  We  should  all  have 
to  board  this  first  year,  but,  after  that,  by  pulling  together,  we 
might  have  a  nice  little  cottage  house  here  near  the  college 
where  you  can  leave  mother  and  Clare  with  me  when  you 
return  to  the  regiment.  The  colonel  thinks  it  might  stimulate 
interest  very  much  to  have  a  "  medal  of  honor  man  "  here,  and 
your  old  maid  pedagogue  of  a  sister  would  certainly  rejoice. 
Think  of  it  over  night,  then  wire. 

I  have  moved  into  my  room  at  Mrs.  Jamieson's,  the  relict 
of  an  extinct  volcano  in  the  faculty.  When  a  professor  dies 
here  the  widow  takes  heart  again — and  boarders.  They  say 


THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

it  renews  their  youth,  and  Mrs.  Jamieson  is  certainly  vivacious. 
She  has  two  communicating  rooms  near  mine  that  could  do  for 
mother  and  Clare,  and  I  find  that  you  could  be  snugly  quartered 
next  door  at  Mrs.  Bronson's,  also  a  widow,  but  not  quite  so 
youthful  in  her  way  as  my  chatelaine.  Only,  we  have  to  speak 
quickly,  for  in  two  weeks  "  school  begins,"  as  they  express  it, 
and  everything  in  this  community  I  find  hinges  on  two  essen 
tials — "  school  and  the  legislature."  The  latter  sits  six  or  eight 
weeks  each  winter,  and  supports  that  part  of  the  town  the  rest 
of  the  year.  "  School  keeps  "  from  mid-September  to  mid-June, 
and  the  chief  end  of  woman  is  to  take  table  boarders.  There 
is  no  Hall  or  Commons  or  Mess  for  the  male  students.  They 
sleep  and  eat  where  they  please.  There  is  a  big  building  wherein 
the  feminine  tinder-graduates,  known  as  "  Co-Eds,"  both  board 
and  lodge,  but  none  others  need  apply.  It  has  its  restrictions 
as  well  as  its  limitations,  I  find,  and  many  of  the  young  women 
"  dwell  promiscuous "  about  town  rather  than  submit  to  rules 
as  to  hours  and  the  men.  From  what  I  hear,  dropped  without 
reserve  from  the  lips  of  the  lady  matrons,  managers,  house 
keepers,  etc.,  I  look  forward  to  new  and  possibly  novel  expe 
riences. 

Colonel  and  Mrs.  West  have  been  most  kind,  and  she  was  so 
good  as  to  urge  my  remaining  longer  as  their  guest,  but  you 
know  what  a  stickler  I  am  for  independence.  I  needed  to  be 
where  I  could  study,  sleep  and  exercise  according  to  my  own 
programme. 

The  catalogue  I  send  will  give  you  an  idea  what  a  big  insti 
tution  this  is.  I  was  surprised.  As  yet  I  have  met  but  few 
of  the  faculty,  or  their  families.  They  spend  the  summer  camp 
ing  or  traveling,  and  are  only  just  straggling  back.  There  are, 
however,  something  like  thirty  young  men  and  women,  mainly 
graduates  of  the  college,  who  are  employed  as  assistants  in 
various  branches;  Elocution,  with  reason,  I  should  say,  calling 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  125 

for  rather  more  exponents  than  even  mathematics.  Clare  might 
air  her  French,  she  being  one  of  Madame  Chegaray's  shining 
lights,  and  they  tell  me  they  thought  I  must  have  come  in  that 
department,  it  seems,  because  the  trustees  are  expected  to 
give  employment,  wherever  possible  to  alumni  or  alumnae  of 
"the  school."  French,  hitherto,  has  not  been  a  strong  point. 
Now  they  have  a  professor  from  the  East  who  lived  long  abroad 
and  he  insisted  on  two  assistants  of  his  own  selection,  also 
long  schooled  abroad.  College  people  say  vaguely  they  don't 
see  how  I,  not  being  an  alumna,  got  one  of  the  three  vacancies 
in  mathematics,  in  "Math,"  as  you  call  it.  Well,  neither  do  I. 
But,  Ronald,  I  mean  to  show  them  why,  having  it,  I  should 
keep  it. 

Mrs.  Jamieson  has  just  called  me  to  the  window  to  see  the 
"new  young  lady  in  French,"  a  most  presentable  and  accu 
rately  groomed  young  woman,  if  I  may  judge  from  her  back. 
She  has  taken  her  room  at  the  Hall,  I'm  told,  and  she,  too, 
it  would  appear,  has  known  much  better  days, — has  met  with 
reverses,  etc.  How  much  one  learns  in  the  classic  shades  of 
a  country  college.  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  even  telling  me  more, 
something-  about  the  father  of  the  lady  in  French  being  under 
indictment  for  something  shady  in  Wall  Street,  but  I  begged  off 
to  finish  this  letter.  And  it  should  have  been  finished  before  the 
gossip  began.  Love  to  mother  and  the  Lady  Clare. 

Yours  plainly, 

JANE. 

It  was  Jane's  letter  that  settled  it.  Ronald  did  not 
sleep  over  it.  He  hardly  slept  at  all.  The  wire  went 
that  night.  The  application  went  next  day.  The  order 
was  issued  at  Washington  within  the  week  and,  early  in 
September  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Mrs.  Fane 


126  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

found  herself  west  of  the  Wabash.  She  was  pleased  to 
be  gracious  to  Colonel  West,  who  met  them  at  the  station 
and  drove  them  to  his  commodious  home.  She  appalled 
poor  little  Mrs.  West,  who  shrank  visibly  in  her  presence 
and  who  looked  upon  Clare's  fine  proportions  and  classic 
features  with  undisguised  concern.  In  presence  of  such 
charms  it  was  a  relief  to  her  again  to  welcome  plain  Jane, 
of  whom  she  had  begun  to  feel  vaguely  jealous,  never 
knowing  or  dreaming  why.  Of  the  lieutenant  she  took 
hardly  any  notice.  Jane,  her  brother  and  the  colonel 
vanished  soon  after  tea  to  go  look  at  lodgings.  Mrs.  Fane, 
fatigued  by  the  long,  dusty  railway  journey,  was  early 
abed,  Clare  speedily  followed  suit,  and  Mrs.  West  had  the 
field  to  herself  and  a  comforting  cry  before  the  searchers 
returned.  Mrs.  West,  it  was  soon  seen,  was  by  no  means 
strong.  Mrs.  West,  it  was  soon  said,  must  go  abroad  if 
she  hoped  to  be  restored  to  health. 

It  was  just  one  week  before  the  beginning  of  the  fall 
term  that  Brevet  Captain  Ronald  Fane  arrived.  This,  by 
the  way,  was  before  the  Senate  discovered  that  Indian 
fighting,  the  deadliest  and  most  desperate  of  all,  was  not 
war  within  the  meaning  of  the  statutes,  so  the  Gray  Fox's 
recommendation  went  through.  Two  years  later  that 
august  body  recanted,  and  the  fighting  force  of  the  Army 
was  edified  by  the  decision  that  a  man  might  be  (as  some 
men  were)  brevetted  up  to  the  stars  for  shipping  pork 
and  hardtack  to  combatants  in  Dixie,  but  could  not  get 
so  much  as  a  single  bar  for  fighting  desperately  his  weight 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  127 

in  savage  Indians — and  ten  times  over  at  that.  Ronald 
Fane,  however,  had  been  duly  brevetted  "  For  conspicu 
ous  bravery  in  action  against  hostile  Indians,"  and  the 
regiment  and  the  West,  at  least,  applauded.  Only  a  few 
days  they  remained  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Colonel 
West.  The  mother  and  sisters  were  established  in  their 
new  quarters,  the  most  primitive  and  contracted  the  ladies 
had  ever  known,  even  in  the  army.  Trunks  had  come. 
Boxes  and  bales  were  coming,  and,  with  his  father's  old 
friend  and  fellow  soldier  for  guide,  Ronald  had  carried 
out  his  orders  to  report  to  the  President  of  the  State 
College,  Groveton,  for  duty.  It  was  a  visit  he  never 
forgot. 

They  were  ushered  into  a  large,  semi-darkened  room 
and  into  the  presence  of  a  tall,  spare,  gray-headed  and 
sparse-bearded  man,  with  deep-set,  Qavernous  eyes,  hollow 
cheeks,  long,  angular  limbs  and  bony  hands,  in  long,  loose- 
fitting  black  coat  and  trousers,  who  resignedly  lowered  his 
pen  at  their  approach  and  greeted  them  without  a  smile. 

He  did  not  rise  from  his  chair,  even  though  one  of 
his  visitors  was  an  active  and  influential  Trustee.  He 
opened  the  ball  without  a  moment  for  the  customary 
conventional  trifles: 

"You've  come  to  see  about  the  drill,  I  suppose," 
said  he. 

Fane  bowed  and  glanced  toward  the  colonel. 

"  About  the  professorship,  Mr.  President,"  said  the 
colonel  suggestively. 


128  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  I  don't  know  what  it's  called,"  said  the  head  of  the 
college,  with  neither  interest  nor  welcome  in  voice  or 
manner.  "  There  are  just  two  things  I  wish — that  you 
should  get  along  without  friction  and  that  you  should  get 
the  students  into  the  militia." 

Fane  looked  puzzled.  This  was  something  new.  He 
turned  to  his  quiet-mannered  mentor  for  explanation. 

"  Our  militiamen  are  paid  five  dollars  apiece  toward 
their  uniform  fund,"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  smile.  "But 
there  are  reciprocal  obligations  and  duties,  Mr.  Presi 
dent,  that  possibly  you  have  not  considered." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  quickly  responded 
the  head  of  the  college.  "  What  I  do  know  is  that  many 
of  our  students  find  it  a  hardship  to  buy  a  uniform.  This 
will  help  them.  Then  there  has  been  more  or  less  friction 
at  times  between  the  drill  instructor,  the  students  and 
others,  and  it  is  a  thing  to  be  avoided.  Has  Mr. — 
Mr. " 

"  Captain  Fane,"  said  the  Trustee   smoothly. 

"  Has  Mr.  Fane  ever  taught — elsewhere  ?  "  asked  the 
President. 

"  At  West  Point,"  said  the  lieutenant,  not  too  confi 
dently. 

"  At ?  "  The  President  possibly  had  not  heard.  He 

looked  as  though  his  thoughts  were  buried  in  the  manu 
script  on  his  desk. 

"  At  West  Point,"  repeated  Fane   respectfully. 

The  President  looked  a  trifle  dazed  or  disappointed. 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  129 

"  I  thought  possibly  you  might  be  able  to  help  in — mathe 
matics.  We  may  need  more —  "  he  began,  but  his  eyes 
dropped  again  to  the  penciled  page  before  him.  A  word 
needed  modification.  He  crossed  it  out  and  began  tapping 
impatiently  at  the  edge  of  the  paper.  Obviously  the  in 
terview  was  too  long. 

"  I  could  try,  sir,"  said  Fane,  "  though  I'm  rusty  just 
now." 

"  Well,  I  may  have  to  call  upon  you.  I'm  glad  you're 
willing.  The  man  we  had — I  don't  remember  his 
name " 

"  Mr.  Strang,  possibly,"  suggested  the  Trustee. 

"  Said  he  wasn't  sent  here  for  any  such  purpose,"  con 
tinued  the  President.  "  I'm  glad  you're,  willing  to  be 
useful." 

"  I  hope  to  be  that,"  said  Fane,  smiling,  "  even  if  I  do 
not  teach  mathematics." 

"  Well — I  don't  know  anything  about  the  drills. 
That," — and  the  President  threw  forth  his  hands  and 
arms  in  side-long  gesture  as  much  as  to  say, —  "  that  is  en 
tirely  Heyond  me  or  my  comprehension."  Then  plainly 
intimated  that  there  was  no  need  for  further  trespass  on 
his  time. 

"  Our  President,"  said  the  colonel,  as  they  walked 
away,  "  is  a  strange  combination.  His  influence  for  good 
with  the  student  body  and  his  powers  as  a  thinker  and 
educator  are  remarkable;  but  he  is  somewhat — inacces 
sible  at  times,  when  deep  in  psychological  research,  and 


130  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

he  is  tenacious  of  his  theories,  which  are  often  Utopian, 
I  fear.  You  have  simply  to  go  ahead  with  your  work, 
take  things  as  they  come;  remember  that  our  boys  are 
rough,  perhaps,  but  I  have  found  them  mighty  ready  when 
it  came  to  fighting.  There's  no  better  soldier  stuff  in  the 
world,  captain,  than  you'll  find  right  here— only  it  isn't  in 
every  man  to  know  how  to  develop  in  peace  time  that 
which  in  time  of  action  almost  develops  itself.  If  I  may 
advise  I  should  say  start  in  quietly,  win  their  good  will 
and  handle  them  yourself.  Pitt's  mistake  was  in  thinking 
he  was  sent  to  make  a  military  academy  of  a  country 
college. 

"  Strang's  was  in  forever  bothering  the  President 
about  matters  of  discipline.  Prex  knows  the  Bible,  '  the 
humanities,'  theology,  psychology  and  metaphysics  by 
heart,  but  he  has  no  more  idea  of  what  is  military  than  I 
have  of  the  millennium.  If  Prex  had  his  way  all  nations 
should  disarm  forthwith,  turn  their  spears  into  shares  and 
swords  into  pruning  hooks.  He  hates  the  sound  of  a  gun 
or  the  sight  of  a  soldier.  He  can't  see  why  all  men  can't 
be  like  himself,  ascetic,  abstinent  and  peace-loving — so 
long  as  undisturbed.  He  can't  be  made  to  see  that  he  is 
one  of  the  most  combative  natures  conceivable.  Tread 
on  his  toes  or  his  theories  and  Prex  is  up  in  arms,  a 
fighter  to  the  bitter  end.  That  he  calls  '  spontaneous  com- 
bativeness.'  He  says  there  is  so  much  in  human  nature 
that  every  appliance  to  aid  or  develop  it  should  be  elimi 
nated,  hence  no  arms,  no  drill,  no  soldiers." 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  131 

"  And  yet,"  said  Fane,  "  he  is  head  of  an  institution 
that  has  accepted  large  bounty  from  the  Government  on 
condition  of  maintaining  instruction  in  both  tactics  and 
discipline  !  How  is  that?  " 

"  It  is  hard  to  explain,"  said  West.  "  As  I  say,  his  is 
a  complex  organism.  Education  is  a  part  of  his  religion. 
To  teach  and  spread  abroad  the  gospel,  to  disseminate  his 
theories,  he  regards  as  sacred  duty.  Every  dollar  that  we 
can  command  should  be  devoted  to  the  cause,  and  every 
energy  not  needed  in  teaching  should  be  devoted  to  getting 
the  dollars.  One-fifth  of  our  income  is  derived  through 
that  agricultural  college  act,  and  Prex  thinks  every  cent  of 
it  should  go  to  the  support  of  any  department  in  the  col 
lege  other  than  the  military.  He  thinks  the  Government 
wrong  in  providing  for  military  instruction,  therefore  it's 
right  for  him  to  divert  its  bounty  to  other  purposes.  Yet  if 
some  of  our  big  brewers  or  speculators  or  gamblers  were 
to  offer  to  endow  a  chair  or  two  or  build  a  library  or 
establish  scholarships  he'd  quit  before  he'd  take  a  cent 
from  them." 

They  were  nearly  "  home."  The  colonel  lived  in  his 
handsome  house  in  town.  The  subaltern  boarded  in  a 
frame  cottage  by  the  lake.  They  had  come  to  the  parting 
of  the  ways.  The  big  buildings  of  the  college  loomed 
behind  them  on  the  hill.  The  dense  foliage  hid  the  roofs 
and  spires  of  the  inland  city.  It  was  well  named.  Fane 
raised  his  hat  and  stood  to  let  the  senior  pass  him  by. 
"  I  think  I'll  walk  round  with  you,"  said  West.  Then 


132  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

something  like  a  blush  surged  up  to  his  forehead.    "  It's — 
cooler  along  the  shore." 

The  shaded  path  was  beautiful.  Several  people  were 
sauntering  along  in  peaceful  enjoyment  of  the  evening  air. 
They  passed  one  or  two  men  who  formally  touched  the 
hat,  or  nodded,  to  the  Trustee.  "  Some  of  our  instruct 
ors,"  said  he.  "  You'll  get  to  know  them  after  a  while. 
Here's  one  coming  I  want  you  to  meet,"  and  Fane  and 
Professor  Lorimer  shook  hands  and  were  mutually  de 
lighted.  "  Er — I  hope  you  won't  be  severe  with  our  boys, 
captain,"  said  the  professor  at  parting,  and  they  went  their 
ways.  A  benevolent-looking,  middle-aged  man  was  lean 
ing  on  a  gate  embowered  in  roses.  "  This  is  Captain  Fane, 
professor,"  said  the  Trustee.  "  I  hope  you'll  be  friends." 
The  professor  was  kindly  and  civil,  begged  them  to  enter 

and  be  seated,  but  they  had  to  go  on.     "  I  hope — er 

you  won't  be  severe  with  our  boys,  captain,"  said  the  pro 
fessor,  as  they  parted.  And  this  sentiment  before  they 
reached  home  was  the  third  time  expressed,  and  Fane 
turned  to  his  mentor.  "  Why  should  I  be — or  why  should 
they  think  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  colonel  reflected  a  moment  before  committing  him 
self.  "  It  is  probably  because  you're  a  West  Pointer,'1 
said  he.  "  Pitt  was  of  our  own  volunteers.  Strang  was 
from  Bowdoin  and  Norwich.  I  believe  you  are  the  first 
West  Pointer  seen  in  these  parts  since  the  war." 

A  curious  train  of  thought  was  started  only  to  suffer 
sudden  interruption.  As  they  came  to  a  leafy  corner  and 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  133 

turned  along  the  shore  a  carriage  drove  by  in  which  were 
two  middle-aged  women,  facing  front,  to  whom  the 
Trustee  raised  his  hat.  "  Ladies  from  the  Hall,"  said  he. 
"  One  is  assistant  in  English  Literature."  But  Fane's 
wits  were  wandering.  He  had  stopped  short  and  was 
staring  after  them.  Two  young  women  were  seated  fac 
ing  the  elders.  One  was  now  smilingly  giving  ear 
to  her  opposite  neighbor.  The  face  of  the  other  was 
hidden.  She  had  bent  forward  in  the  carriage  and  was 
still  bending  as  it  turned  the  corner. 

"  Someone  you  know  ?  "  hazarded  the  colonel. 

"  Someone — I  thought "  faltered  the  young  officer: 

then  shook  himself  together.  "  But  it's  impossible !  " 

West  spoke  again :  "  Our  matron  is  evidently  showing 
the  sights  to  our  recent  acquisitions.  One  of  the  younger 
ladies  was  the  new  assistant  in  French — Miss  Hoyt." 

And  in  this  way  and  in  this  utterly  out-of-the-way  spot 
the  girl  he  loved  had  come  back  into  the  life  of  Ronald 
Fane,  and  what  promised  to  be  a  strange,  perhaps  a  thank 
less,  task  all  on  a  sudden  was  endowed  with  thrilling 
interest.  It  was  a  mercy  that  Jane  stood  there  at  the  next 
gate,  for  in  her  smiling  welcome  Colonel  West  lost  sight 
of  the  brother's  startled,  wonder-stricken  face. 

But  happiness  had  not  come  with  the  discovery.  For 
months  no  line  or  word  had  passed  between  them,  and  he 
had  sought  no  explanation.  It  was  enough  that  she  should 
have  ceased  to  write.  It  was  the  easiest  way  to  accept 
the  inevitable.  If  she  had  not  dropped  the  correspondence 


134  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

and  him,  he,  in  his  changed  fortunes  and  new  filial  and 
family  duties,  would  have  been  compelled  to  explain  to 
her.  It  was  a  mercy,  though  a  bitter  one,  that  it  came  as 
and  when  it  did.  He  had  accepted  it  as  beyond  repair. 
He  positively  had  nothing  to  offer.  She,  presumably,  had 
everything  to  make  life  beautiful.  He  had  never  so  much 
as  sought  to  learn  where  or  how  she  was.  It  were  all 
best  forgotten — that  brief,  sweet  dream — and  forever. 

But  now  she  was  here — here  at  Groveton,  a  teacher, 
a  dependent !  What  could  it  mean  but  that  some  dire  mis 
fortune  had  befallen  her?  Now  he  could  not,  he  should 
not,  lose  a  moment.  That  very  evening  he  called  at 
Clifton  Hall,  sent  his  card  to  the  matron  and  to  Miss 
Hoyt.  The  former  received  him  wonderingly.  The  latter 
received  him  not  at  all.  Instead  she  sent  this  note: 

I  knew  you  would  come  as  soon  as  you  found  that  I  was 
here,  therefore  I  should  have  had  this  ready,  but  I  could  not 
write  it.  It  was-  like  you  to  come,  but,  my  friend,  be  my  friend 
and  help  me  to  bear  myself  bravely  in  these  new  duties.  You 
heard,  of  course,  of  our — disgrace;  there  is  no  other  word 
for  it.  And  it  is  strange  indeed,  now  that  I  have  my  own  way 
to  make  in  the  world,  that  you  should  have  been  ordered  here. 
It  is  more  than  probable  we  may  meet — must  meet;  but  when  we 
do  meet  let  it  be  only  as  mere  acquaintances  who  have  met  only 
casually  before.  Sincerely, 

ETHEL  HOYT. 

And  they  did  meet,  once  when  Fane  was  making  a 
formal  call  at  the  Governor's,  once  after  "  Rhetoricals," 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  185 

and  that  was  all.  They  exchanged  a  few  conventionalities 
on  each  occasion,  he  being  confused,  constrained  and  awk 
ward.  She  being  entirely  self-controlled. ,  They  saw  each 
other  at  intervals  and  at  a  distance  about  the  grounds. 
He  saw  her  and  sat  where  he  could  see  her  every  Sun 
day  in  church,  but  never  yet  in  the  six  weeks  of  their 
service  within  these  "  classic  shades  "  of  State  College 
had  they  met  alone.  Each  had  had  much  to  encounter, 
much  to  bear.  Each  would  gladly  have  abandoned  the 
new  and  strange  associations  and  returned  to  the  old,  but 
he  was  hampered  by  financial  bonds  and  filial  duties.  She 
could  only  return  by  accepting  conditions  that  were  im 
possible. 

With  many  an  obstacle  to  keep  them  asunder,  there 
was  yet  one  overpowering  force  to  link  their  lives.  In 
his  moments  of  gravest  discouragement  Fane  found  it 
impossible  to  think  of  throwing  up  the  detail  and  going 
elsewhere,  so  long  as  she  was  here.  If  only,  he  thought 
and  prayed,  if  only  he  could  meet  her  and  talk  with  her, 
win  her  confidence — he  knew  he  had  her  faith  and  friend 
ship — even  such  unappreciated  toil  as  his  might  yet, 
through  her  sympathy,  be  blessed  and  glorified.  Day  and 
night  he  thought  of  her,  dreamed  of  her,  lived  for  her, 
bearing  the  poor  mother's  querulous  complaints,  the  sis 
ter's  scorn  of  her  surroundings,  the  sense  of  utter  incon 
gruity  in  his  strange  lot,  the  slings  and  arrows  of  odd,  if 
not  outrageous,  fortune — bearing  all  that  he  might  some 
times  see  her  lovely  face,  breathe  the  air  she  breathed, 


136  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

and  live  in  hope  of  speaking  again  with  her  uninterrupted 
and  alone. 

And  at  last,  marvel  of  the  marvelous,  the  time  had  come. 
At  the  base  of  this  little"  cedar-crested  cliff  and  at  this 
sweet  hour  of  early  sunshine,  before  the  busy  day  was 
fairly  begun,  at  the  brink  of  this  beautiful,  placid,  mist- 
breathing  mirror,  one  dainty  foot  perched  on  a  little  bowl 
der  at  the  edge  of  the  lapping  waters,  her  hat  hanging 
by  its  strings  from  her  wrist,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
distant  shore,  there  stood  the  girl  of  his  dreamland,  and 
at  sound  of  his  swift  coming  she  turned,  startled,  and, 
through  swimming  tears  there  was  not  time  to  brush 
away,  looked  straight  into  the  eager  lighting  face  of  the 
man  she  knew  to  be  her  lover.  It  was  too  late  to  deny 
him.  It  was  too  unlike  her  to  think  of  flight. 

"  They  told  me  you  were  in  Chicago,"  she  said,  very 
simply,  as  she  withdrew  her  hand,  also  the  swimming 
eyes,  for  both  his  clasp  and  gaze  were  ardent. 

"  I  was,"  he  answered,  "  until  last  night.  I  went  with 
Colonel  West  that  far  and  in  hopes  of  meeting  a  brace  of 
our  trustees,  but  they  had  gone,  and  he,  to  my  sorrow,  is 
going." 

"Is  she  so  ill?" 

The  eyes  were  drying  now,  but  it  was  still  unsafe  to 
look  at  him. 

"  The  doctor  says  she  must  have  a  long  sea  voyage. 
They  sail  next  week.  I  feel  as  though  my  only  friend  and 
advocate  were  leaving  me." 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  137 

"  Not  that,  Mr.  Fane — Captain  Fane !  "  she  corrected 
herself,  with  a  shadow  of  a  smile.  "  I  hear  from  many 
people  who  are  in  position  to  know,  of  the  great  work 
you  are  doing  with  the  students  and  the  interest  you  have 
inspired— 

"  Among  many,  yes,"  he  answered ;  "  but  what  makes 
it  galling  is  that  so  many  others  are  allowed  to  evade 
duty  and  then  to  triumph  over  those  who  have  to  attend. 
It  breeds  discontent  and  trouble.  But — that  is  not  what 
I  should  be  talking  with  you  about.  There  are  a  thousand 
things  I  wish  to  ask,  to  know,  for,  believe  me,  I  know 
nothing."  And  in  his  eagerness  Fane  had  stepped  close 
to  her  side,  his  voice,  his  lips  trembling  a  bit  as  he  did 
so.  She  noted  both  and  drew  back  a  pace,  whereat  he 
followed. 

"  Don't  ask ;  don't — know,"  she  answered.  "  I  never 
speak  of  it  to  anybody.  Moreover,  I  should  not  see  you 
here,  or  anywhere,  in  fact."  Then  bravely  she  looked  up 
and  at  him.  She  spoke  abruptly :  "  You  know  me  well 
enough  to  know  that  had  I  dreamed  of  your  coming  here 
I  would  not  have  come.  I  know  you,  I  believe,  well 
enough  to  say  that  I  am  going  now  and  you  are  not  to 
follow.  That  is  the  way  to  Cedar  Point,  is  it  not  ?  Thank 
you— yes ;  good-morning,  captain  !  "  And  leaving  him 
half  stupefied,  she  turned  away. 

Not  ten  steps  had  she  taken  when  with  prodigious 
splash  something  heavy  and  massive,  hurled  from  over 
head,  plunged  into  the  rippling  surface  close  at  hand, 


158  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

showering  him  and  sprinkling  her  with  spray.  A  scramble 
of  footfalls,  a  snickering  laugh,  a  sound  of  snapping  twigs 
and  slashing  branches  came  from  the  ledge  above  them, 
Quick  as  the  leap  of  a  panther  Fane  darted  into  a  little 
pathway  that  led  to  the  back  of  the  rocks.  Three  or  four 
supple  forms  went  bounding  away  through  the  under 
brush.  One  young  fellow,  less  lucky,  stumbled,  sprawled 
at  length,  and  before  he  could  spring  again  to  his  feet 
Fane's  grasp  was  on  his  coat  collar,  and,  with  fury  in  his 
eyes,  the  young  officer  whirled  him  about  in  the  effort 
to  see  his  face. 

"  Let  me  go  you !  You've  no  right  to 

maul  me !  "  savagely,  desperately  cried  the  prisoner,  and 
a  furious  lunge  supplemented  the  words.  Fane's  answer 
was  to  thrust  his  fingers  within  the  shirt  collar,  too,  and 
further  to  the  front.  Now  the  captive  had  to  look  up, 
and  a  livid,  scared,  sweating  face  it  was,  and  one  that 
Fane  knew  at  a  glance. 

Slowly,  gradually  the  young  officer  loosened  his  grasp 
upon  the  culprit,  his  eyes  still  burning  into  the  fellow's 
hang-dog  face.  It  was  a  moment  before  he  could  com 
mand  himself  to  speak: 

"  But  for  the  fact  that  I  have  reason  to  know  you  and 
your  name,"  said  he,  "  I  should  march  you  to  the  Presi 
dent  as  you  are.  You  are  Stetson,  mechanical  engineering 
student — the  man  that  submitted  that  lying  physician's 
certificate.  Now,  go !  " 

The  scowl  blackened  on  the  swollen,  quivering  face  and 


IN    CLASSIC    SHADES  139 

the  instinct  of  the  blackguard  hissed  in  every  word.  The 
answer  came  with  a  curse : 

"  You  can't  prove  the  half  on  me,  by  God,  that  I  can 
prove  on  you — and  I'll  do  it." 

Perhaps  it  was  God's  mercy  that  Fane  had  but  a  single 
arm  available* 


CHAPTER  II 

A    CAT    IN    A    STRANGE    GARRET 

IT  was  indeed  a  strange  world  in  which  our  soldier 
found  himself.  Six  weeks  now  had  he  been  engaged 
in  his  novel  duties,  and  of  the  six  members  of  the 
Faculty,  old  or  young,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  formed 
in  that  space  of  time,  four  had,  with  more  or  less  im- 
pressiveness,  thought  it  a  duty  to  express  the  hope  that 
he  wouldn't  "  be  severe  with  the  boys."  "  What  manner 
of  man  do  they  think  me  ?  "  was  the  natural  query.  He 
had  met  his  new  charges,  the  students  of  the  two  lower 
classes,  in  a  big  wooden  barn  of  a  building  called  the 
"  gym."  He  had  been  notified  by  the  President  that  each 
class  would  drill  two  hours  each  week,  that  the  Sopho 
more  company  was  already  officered,  and  that  he  could 
submit  as  soon  as  he  pleased  the  names  of  the  Freshmen 
to  be  similarly  appointed.  Fane  looked  puzzled.  "  Ap 
point  undrilled,  uninstructed  men  as  officers,  Mr.  Presi 
dent  ?  Is  that  the  proposition  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  "  What  I  wish  to  avoid  is  friction.  There  is 
always  some  feeling  between  the  two  classes,  and  I  wish 
them  kept  as  far  apart  as  possible ;  therefore,  the  Fresh 
men  should  have  their  own  officers,"  and  having  so  said 

140 


A    CAT   IN    A    STRANGE    GARRET 

the  President  resumed  his  pen  and  manuscript  to  indicate 
that  the  interview  was  at  an  end.  It  was  a  strange  idea, 
but  Fane  had  learned  subordination,  and  he  went  forth 
to  see  how  the  scheme  would  work. 

On  the  designated  day,  the  first  week  of  the  term,  about 
eighty  young  men  appeared  as  participants  and  about 
one  hundred  and  eighty  as  spectators.  Recitations  were 
going  on  in  the  various  buildings,  and  Fane  wondered 
how  so  many  could  be  at  the  moment  unemployed.  A 
civil  inquiry  led  to  the  reply,  "  Oh,  we've  nothing  to  do. 
We're  specials."  A  Sophomore  in  shoulder-straps  sup 
plemented  this  with  the  statement  that  only  "  regular  " 
students  were  compelled  to  drill.  Fane  looked  about  him 
a  moment.  At  one  end  of  the  gymnasium  were  grouped 
some  forty  jovial  young  fellows  armed  with  rifles,  many 
of  them  arrayed  in  blue  flannel  coats  and  caps  of  curious 
and  antique  patterns.  Along  the  back  wall  were  scat 
tered  a  like  number  of  silent  lads  in  all  manner  of 
civilian  garb.  All  over  the  gymnasium,  perched  on  win 
dow  sills,  ladders,  and  bars,  squatted  on  up-ended  Indian 
clubs  or  dumb  bells,  or  standing  in  groups  about  the 
floor,  were  the  would-be  critics  and  spectators,  latent 
merriment  and  mischief  in  nearly  every  face ;  in  the  midst 
of  the  array  stood  the  cavalry  lieutenant,  in  accurate, 
trim-fitting  uniform,  a  light  sabre  at  his  side.  Between 
the  soldier  crowd  and  the  spectators  some  little  good- 
natured  chaff  was  volleying,  but  not  a  symptom  off 
surliness.  With  pleasing  and  patronizing  interest  the 


THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

self-styled  "  exempts  "  had  come  to  observe  and  remark 
upon  the  initial  effort  of  their  less  fortunate  fellows  in 
what  they  termed  the  awkward  squads,  and  the  squads, 
both  Sophomore  and  Freshmen,  were  prepared  grudg 
ingly  and  of  necessity,  but  with  such  show  of  "  don't 
care  "  as  they  could  command,  to  submit.  It  was  the 
way  of  the  School. 

And  then,  for  the  first  time,  Fane's  voice  was  uplifted 
in  the  "  gym,"  where  for  long  months  thereafter  he  ruled 
supreme.  Long  accustomed  to  instructing  in  the  open 
air,  he  spoke  without  effort  and,  purposely,  in  quiet  tone. 
There  was  even  suspicion  of  humorous  enjoyment 
twitching  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  It  is  our  first  lesson,"  said  he,  "  and  I  had  not 
expected  so  big  an  attendance.  But  we'll  do  our  best  in 
the  limited  space.  All  those  designated  for  drill  will 
assemble  at  once  at  the  north  side.  All  others  are  cordi 
ally  invited  to  come  in  and  see  us  after  we  get  shaken 
down  to  business,  and  meanwhile,  kindly,  to — retire." 

The  shout  of  laughter,  the  burst  of  delighted  applause 
that  instantly  followed,  told  that  at  the  critical  moment 
the  stranger  had  made  a  "  ten  strike."  Down  from  the 
sills,  ladders,  bars  and  stoves  swarmed  the  commentators, 
and,  followed  by  the  shouts  and  sallies  of  the  lately 
down-cast,  out  they  went  into  the  September  sunshine. 
Then,  only  interrupted  by  chuckles  of  merriment  repeat 
edly  breaking  forth,  the  work  begun.  Fane  set  the  class 
leader  to  work  at  taking  down  the  names,  ages,  addresses, 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   143 

etc.,  of  his  forty-odd  Freshmen,  and  told  the  Sophomore 
captain  to  show  what  his  men  could  do  in  the  manual 
of  arms.  There  was  some  unsteadiness  and  "  gazing 
about,"  and  very  little  erect  carriage  of  head  or  body, 
but  the  manual  wasn't  bad.  Fane  pointed  out  a  few 
defects:  picked  out  the  non-commissioned  officers  and 
half  a  dozen  likely  looking  privates  to  act  as  drill  masters, 
and  then  told  off  the  Freshmen  into  little  squads  for 
their  initial  lesson  in  the  school  of  the  soldier.  Just 
as  he  expected,  not  more  than  two  of  them  had  ever 
handled  a  musket  before.  Not  one,  then,  was  fit  to  be  an 
officer.  At  the  end  of  a  busy  hour,  laughing,  chatting 
and  in  high  good  humor  the  battalion  went  its  way  to 
other  duties,  and  at  two  score  students'  boarding-house 
tables  that  day  the  tale  was  being  told  with  merry  chaff 
and  keen  appreciation  how  "  Cap  "  had  sent  the  idlers 
about  their  business,  and  how  comical  had  been  the  first 
drill. 

But  "  Cap  "  himself  went  home  thoughtful.  The  law 
contemplated  that  all  able-bodied  students  should  be 
instructed  in  the  rudiments  of  military  tactics  and'  dis 
cipline,  otherwise  the  government  couldn't  begin  to  get 
the  worth  of  its  money.  According  to  the  rolls  there 
were  as  many  as  four  hundred  young  men  at  the  college. 
Of  these  nearly  three  hundred  had  not  yet  been  two  years 
in  attendance ;  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  had  not  been 
two  months.  College  regulations  read  that  members  of 
the  Sophomore  and  Freshmen  classes  were  required  to 


144  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

provide  themselves  with  the  inexpensive  uniform  of  the 
battalion,  and  to  attend  drills.  According  to  the  list 
there  were  more  one-  and  two-year  students  evading  than 
attending  drill.  It  took  him  a  few  days  to  get  all  the 
names  and  data.  Meantime  the  gym  proving  too 
small  for  so  many  squads,  they  were  marched  forth  upon 
the  campus  and  thither  flocked  large  numbers  of  the 
under-graduates,  mercilessly  chaffing  the  squads  and 
coaching  the  "  corporals."  Fane  could  rule  in  the  gym 
nasium  during  drill  hours — that  was  his  province — but 
the  campus  was  free  for  all.  A  Sophomore  officer,  deeply 
imbued  with  martial  spirit  and  intent  on  his  work,  took 
note  by  name  of  the  would-be  wits,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  week  Fane  waited  on  the  President  with  a  list  of 
some  eighty  young  men,  none  of  whom  attended  and 
many  of  whom  impeded  the  drills.  The  President 
looked  up  in  obvious  impatience.  It  was  in  office  hours, 
to  be  sure,  but  he  could  ill  brook  interruption  when 
engrossed  in  the  preparation  of  lecture  or  chapter  on  his 
favorite  theme,  or  sermon  for  somebody's  church,  or 
speech  for  some  ward  meeting.  He  was  ever  a  prop 
agandist  of  his  views.  The  President  hated  to  have  to 
come  down  to  the  vulgar  details  of  school  matters.  He 
broke  in  impatiently  before  Fane  had  said  a  dozen  words. 
"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that/'  he  said.  "  You'll 
have  to  see  the  class  officers."  Then  it  transpired  that  a 
dozen  or  more  members  of  the  Faculty  were  told  off  to 
supervise  the  college  work,  each  in  charge  of  a  dozen  or 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   145 

more  students,  and  in  the  course  of  another  forty-eight 
hours  Fane  had  succeeded,  through  these  officials,  in  open 
ing  communication  with  most  of  the  recalcitrants.  These 
latter  were  surprised  to  be  called  on  to  step  forward  and 
explain.  Some  said  that  they  "  hadn't  been  told  " ;  some 
said  that  their  "  folks  didn't  want  them  to  drill " ;  some 
that  they  were  opposed  to  all  military  despotism ;  some  that 
as  specials  they  didn't  have  to ;  but  most  of  them  claimed 
exemption  becar.se  of  physical  disability.  Judging  from 
the  excuses  grudgingly  made  but  firmly  insisted  on,  one- 
third  of  the  under-graduates  in  the  first  and  second  year 
at  the  State  College  were  bodily  wrecks. 

The  round-up  had  created  no  little  excitement,  and  was 
a  source  of  delight  and  rejoicing  to  the  regular  members 
of  the  battalion,  tired  of  being  twitted  with  having  to 
drill.  It  was  human  nature.  Compelled  themselves  to 
take  the  ordeal,  they  had  no  sympathy  with  those  who 
shirked,  and  less  with  those  excused.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  incumbency  the  President  found  himself  hampered 
with  a  military  instructor  who  not  only  sought  to  bring 
the  students  to  book,  but  showed  symptoms  of  stirring 
up  the  Faculty.  And  what  astonished  the  President  was 
that  those  students  already  enrolled  were  enthusiastically 
with  him.  But  now  came  trouble. 

Fane's  dragnet  had  resulted  in  the  "  conscription,"  as 
they  termed  it,  of  some  forty  young  fellows  entirely  will 
ing  to  accept  the  free  education  given,  in  large  measure 
through  the  bounty  of  the  Government,  but  correspond- 


146  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

ingly    set    against    rendering   any    service   whatever    in 
return.     Some  few  owned  up  squarely  and  fairly  and 
took  their  medicine  in  a  manly  way.     Some  few  sullenly 
reported,    and    sullenly   endured    the    drill.     Some    few 
"kicked"   stubbornly,   and   two   or  three   showed  fight. 
One  of  these  last-mentioned  was  a  hulking  lad  of  twenty 
or  twenty-one,  beginning  his  second  term  at  the  college, 
the  son  of  a  local  politician  of  some  repute,  and  the 
putative  leader  of  a  gang  of  young  miscreants  that  made 
night  hideous   about   certain   near-by   saloons,   and   the 
first  time  Fane  looked  into  the  eyes  of  this  local  celebrity 
he  felt  instinctively  that  there  was  work  cut  out  for  him. 
The  President  ruled  that  all  who  could  procure  a  phy 
sician's  certificate  of  disability  should  be  excused.     The 
champion    base    runner    of    the    college    baseball    club 
tendered  a  note  from  his  family  physician  to  the  effect 
that  the  violent  exercise  of  military  drill  would  weaken 
his  heart.     Fane  replied  that  in  ten  months  of  military 
drill  the  young  man  would  not  encounter  as  much  violent 
exercise  as  he  did  in  ten  minutes  of  baseball — in  ten  sec 
onds  in  fact.     The  President  ruled  that  if  wrong  was 
done  and  the  Government  defrauded,  the  physician  was 
accountable,  not  the  Faculty,  and  the  excuse  stood,  to  the 
derisive  merriment  of  the  battalion  and  the  secret  shame 
of  the  baseball  men.     Two  of  the  most  promising  pupils 
in  Professor  Hitman's  boxing  class  came  armed  with 
the  certificates  of  home  doctors  to  the  effect  that  they 
had  been  feeble  from  infancy,  and  the  weight  of  the 


A   CAT   IN    A    STRANGE    GARRET 

musket  would  be  apt  to  injure  the  spine.  The  President 
ruled  that  he  could  not  accept  the  responsibility  of  flying 
in  the  face  of  the  professional  opinions  of  recognized 
practitioners,  and  the  grinning  athletes  stood  relieved 
from  the  soldier  duty  to  which  Fane  had  drafted  them. 
The  President's  decision  created  immediate  and  lively 
stir.  Under-graduate  ingenuity  received  remarkable 
stimulus.  Sophomore  Van  Dyne  filed  a  certificate  that 
he  was  of  feeble  constitution,  though  he  looked  the 
picture  of  health  and  strength.  Fane  wrote  to  the  doctor 
in  the  case,  and  the  letter  came  back  undelivered.  Fane 
wrote  the  postmaster  for  explanation,  and  the  post 
master  said  no  doctor  of  that  name  ever  lived  or  prac 
ticed  there.  Fane  laid  the  matter  before  the  President, 
with  the  result  that  Mr.  Van  Dyne  was  promoted  into 
the  junior  class,  passing  a  very  creditable  examination 
in  classics,  etc.  Fane  told  the  President  the  man  had 
submitted  a  forged  or  bogus  certificate,  and  deserved  to 
be  punished  accordingly.  The  President  said  that  he 
didn't  know  anything  about  that;  what  he  did  know 
was  that  Van  Dyne  was  no  longer  subject  to  the  rules 
of  the  military  instructor.  Of  the  twenty  certificates 
submitted  probably  one-third  could  not  have  borne  inves 
tigation,  but  the  President  ruled  that  they  were  final. 
But  the  most  flagrant  case  was  that  first  referred  to. 
The  strong,  sturdy  young  fellow  had  been  caught  in  the 
dragnet,  and  after  scowlingly  submitting  to  one  drill 
and  dodging  the  next,  found  himself  face  to  face  with 


148  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

orders  to  make  up  what  he  had  lost.  It  was  done  in 
studies,  said  Fane,  therefore  should  it  be  done  in  drills. 
He  then  came  with  a  certificate  setting  forth  that  he  had 
been  subject  to  fits  since  early  boyhood,  and  the  excite 
ment  of  drill  would  probably  bring  them  on  again.  Fane 
found  the  doctor,  a  young  beginner,  and  comparative 
stranger,  and  the  doctor  said  he  based  the  certificate 
entirely  on  the  young  man's  personal  statements. 
Neither  personally  nor  professionally  had  he  ever  known 
him  before.  A  Sophomore  officer  who  had  lived  next 
door  to  the  sufferer  some  fifteen  years  and  had  seen  him 
nearly  every  day  said  he  had  never  even  heard  of  his 
having  a  fit.  Fane  refused  to  excuse  the  applicant,  who 
thereupon  absented  himself,  and  when  summoned  before 
the  President  said  his  father  had  forbidden  his  going  to 
drill,  and  was  coming  to  see  the  President  about  it. 
Pending  the  call  of  this  parent,  a  "  dealer  in  spirits  "  and 
"  ward  boss  "  with  whom  the  President  wras  widely  at 
odds,  the  young  man  held  aloof  from  the  gymnasium, 
and  this  was  the  situation  when  early  on  this  beautiful 
Indian  summer  morning  he  stumbled  again  into  the 
clutches  of  Fane,  with  the  result  described. 

It  was  his  second  year  at  the  college,  as  has  been  said, 
and  he  had  not  a  friend  in  the  Faculty.  All  who  knew 
him  at  all  had  but  one  opinion  to  express.  .  He  had  been 
idle,  surly,  a  truant  and  a  ne'er-do-well.  He  had  been 
before  the  President  a  dozen  times,  and  always  for 
rebuke  or  reprimand.  He  now  appeared  as  a  complain- 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   149 

ant.  He  had  been  assaulted,  he  said,  and  abused  by  the 
military  instructor,  and  the  President,  bethinking  him  of 
the  stories  of  two  or  three  others  who  declared  their 
religious  sentiments  had  been  made  to  suffer  because  of 
the  harsh  language  at  drill,  conceived  it  time  to  enjoin 
the  instructor.  It  was  not  yet  office  hour  when  Fane 
received  a  summons  to  attend  the  President,  and  found 
him,  as  usual,  at  his  desk  immersed  in  manuscript,  not 
withstanding  a  lively  racket  in  the  corridor  without. 
A  lot  of  Sophomores,  awaiting  the  bell  for  "  second 
period,"  had  congregated  on  the  stairway  and  were 
skylarking  with  such  Freshmen  as  happened  along.  The 
President  opened  the  matter  with  customary  direct 
ness: 

"  A  student  complains — er — Mr. — Mr.  Fane,  that  you 
violently  assaulted  him  this  morning,  and  certain  others 
have  stated  that  the  abusive  language  they  had  to  hear 
at  drill  was  the  main  cause  of  their  aversion  to  it.  Now, 
I  maintain  that  no  man  is  fit  to  command  others  who 
cannot  command  himself.  Oblige  me  by  stepping  to  that 
door  and  asking  those  young  men  to  stop  that  dis 
turbance.  Ah,  never  mind,  I  hear  Professor  Nash." 
(Indeed  for  a  moment  Professor  Nash  could  be  heard, 
piping  feeble  remonstrance.  Then  the  fun  began  again. 
So  did  the  President.)  "Ah,  what  I  wish  to  impress 
upon  you  is  that  under  no  circumstances  is  an  instructor 
warranted  in  laying  hands  on  a  student.  We  do  not 
countenance  such  meas "  But  here  the  row  with- 


150  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

out  became  uproarious,  and  Fane  could  not  distinctly 
hear. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  stepping  nearer.     "  If 
Mr.   Stetson   is   the   complaining  student,   I   have " 

But  the  President  uplifted  both  voice  and  hand. 

"  One   moment.     Let   me   finish,   then   I'll   hear " 

But  it  was  impossible  to  hear.  The  stairway  was  evi 
dently  blockaded— a  "rush,"  unpremeditated  but  none 
the  less  enthusiastic,  had  been  suddenly  precipitated. 
"  Soph  "  and  "  Fresh  "  were  clinched  in  rejoiceful,  delir 
ious  battle  for  supremacy.  Weight,  inertia  and  numbers 
were  telling  in  favor  of  the  Freshies,  steadily  shoving 
down  the  stairs,  but,  with  bull-like  roarings  the  Sophs 
struggled,  and  stood  firm.  To  Fane's  intense  delight,  up 
sprang  the  head  of  the  college.  Four  strides  took  him 
to  the  door,  which  he  flung  wide  open,  and  in  another 
second  he  had  two  of  the  battlers  by  the  scruff  of  the 
neck  and  with  all  the  strength  of  his  long,  lean,  sinewy 
arms  was  banging  their  heads  together,  and  one  head 
was  that  of  the  recent  complainant — Mr.  Stetson. 

Two  minutes  before  Fane  was  beginning  to  bristle 
with  indignation.  Now  he  was  bubbling  over  with  mer 
riment.  The  combatants  went  scurrying  away.  The 
noise  without  had  suddenly  ceased.  The  President, 
flushed  and  victorious,  returned  to  his  seat  and  the  pur 
suit  of  the  theme.  Fane  had  never  before  warmed  to 
him — had  never  seen  him  warm.  "  Prex  "  was  human, 
&fter  all,  Trembling  a  bit  as  the  result  of  his  violent 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   151 

and  unaccustomed  exertion,  and  pausing,  perhaps  for 
breath,  the  President  sat  turning  over  the  letters  and 
papers  on  his  much  littered  desk.  Fane,  much  more  at 
ease,  though  still  at  attention,  now  stood  patiently  wait 
ing.  The  President  presently  looked  up  and  discovered 
him. 

"  A — er — what  was  it  we  were  discussing?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  impropriety  of  laying  hands  on  a  student,  sir," 
answered  Fane,  with  much  gravity. 

"  A — er — yes,"  and  then,  for  the  first  time  in  the  six 
weeks  Fane  had  known  him,  something  like  a  smile,  a 
frosty  fringe  of  a  smile,  appeared  at  the  outer  edge  of  the 
thin,  ascetic  lips.  "  There  may  be  occasions — rare 
occasions — when "  and  the  President  faltered. 

"  When  the  suaviter  in  modo  gives  place  to  the 
fortiter  in  re?"  suggested  Fane  respectfully,  yet  with 
certain  enjoyment  of  fie  situation. 

The  President  looked  up  in  evident  surprise.  This 
soldier  seemed  to  know  something  of  Latin.  If  so,  he 
might  have  known  something  of  school  or  even  college 
life. 

The  possibility  had  not  previously  occurred  to  him, 
but  only  because  he  had  given  it  no  thought  whatever. 
He  looked  as  though  about  to  say  "  I  did  not  quite  under 
stand  you,"  but,  instead,  said  for  a  moment  nothing. 

Fane  took  up  the  thread  of  talk.  "  I  certainly  seized 
that  young  scapegrace  by  the  collar  this  morning,  I  pos 
sibly  shook  him,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  followed 


152  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

suit.  He  deserves  much  more  than  either  of  us  gave 
him." 

"  That  is  not  for  us  to  determine.  We  both  lost  our 
temper.  I  shall  probably  send  for  him  and  apologize 
and "  But  again  the  President  faltered. 

"  I  shall  certainly  not"  promptly  spoke  the  soldier. 
"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  serious  charges  to  add  to  those 
already  laid  against  that  young  man,  and  was  coming 
to  you  at  office  hour.  He  appears  to  have  had  earlier 
audience." 

"  I  met  him — er — accidently,"  said  the  President,  flush 
ing  a  bit.  "  There  was  a  party  of  them,  over-stimulated, 
possibly,  running  through  the  grove  from  the  lake  early 
this  morning.  They  were  noisy  and  profane." 

"  I  hope  you  recognized  the  others,  sir." 

"  They  were  not  students, — those  whom  I  caught  sight 
of,  at  least,  but  after  them,  limping  and  much  disar 
ranged,  came  this  young  man.  It  was  then  he  told  me 
that  one  of  your  requirements  was  that  he  should  salute 
you  whenever  you  met,  and — let  me  say,  Mr. — Mr.  Fane, 
that  I  think  you  err  in  attempting  to  inculcate  that  which 
you  cannot  enforce.  This  is  not  a  military  institution, 
and  military  methods  should  not  be  resorted  to,  especially 
if  violence  is  to  follow.  I  hope  you  in  future  will  bear 
this  in  mind." 

And  now  the  President  was  himself  again  and  desirous 
of  closing  the  incident — and  his  ears. 

But  Fane's  blood  was  up  and  his  temper  was  rising. 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   153 

He  would  not  go.  "  Mr.  President,"  said  he,  firmly  and 
decidedly,  "  before  ever  I  went  to  West  Point  I  attended 
a  while  a  college  one  hundred  years  older"  (he  was 
tempted  to  say  "  and  ten  times  better")  "than  this,  and 
the  first  lesson  we  received  from  the  lips  of  the  President 
was,  now  that  we  were  duly  matriculated,  it  was  a 
courtesy  and  a  duty  we  owed  to  the  members  of  the 
Faculty,  when  we  met  them  on  or  of!  the  grounds,  to 
raise  the  cap  and  tender  respectful  salutation.  Here  I 
find  that  neither  on  nor  off  the  grounds  has  it  been  a 
custom.  Students  sometimes  touch  their  hats  to  you 
and  to  those  to  whom  they  recite,  but  as  a  rule  Fresh 
men  and  Sophomores,  too,  pass  their  superiors  with  no 
sign  of  recognition.  Indeed,  I  am  told  by  those  few 
professors  whom  I  know  that  they  have  sometimes  been 
shoved  off  the  sidewalks  by  a  solid  phalanx  of  these 
young  fellows,  linked  arm  in  arm.  I  have  taught  them 
that,  as  they  were  here  beneficiaries  of  the  State  and  the 
nation,  receiving  fine  education  free,  it  was  both  a 
courtesy  and  a  duty  that  they  owed  to  the  State  and  to 
the  college  to  show  respect  to  officials.  I  have  told  them 
that  when  in  the  uniform  of  the  battalion  they  shoukj 
tender  a  soldierly  salute.  When  not  in  unform  thej 
should  raise  the  hat  to  you  and  to  every  professor  and 
instructor.  Nine-tenths  of  them  are  doing  it,  and  are  tb^ 
better  for  doing  it.  It  is  only  the  caddish  and  the  viciq .is 
among  them  that  refuse." 

"  I'm   not   so   sure   about   that,"   said   the    Present. 


154  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

"  Now,  when  7  meet  a  student  I  take  off  my  hat  to  him, 
then,  if  he's  a  gentleman  at  heart,  he  takes  off  his  to  me. 
If  he  isn't  a  gentleman  I  really  prefer  that  he  shouldn't 
know  me." 

Fane  smiled.  "  One  young  man  asked  me  if  I 
expected  him  to  tip  his  hat  to  you,  sir,  when  he  hadn't 
even  been  introduced,  and  was  surprised  to  be  told  yes. 
He  then  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  raised  his  hat  and 
the  President  looked  so  surprised  he  feared  he'd  been 
taking  a  liberty.  At  all  events,  the  President  did  not 
return  the  salutation.  Others,  too,  have  told  me  that. 
It  confirms  my  theory  that  it  has  not  been  a  custom  here 
in  the  past." 

"  That  is  possibly  so — that  is  possibly  so,"  said  the 
President.  "  I  am  sometimes  absent  minded  to  a  fault 
and  fail  to  see  what  perhaps  I  should  see.  I  shall  cer 
tainly  keep  that  in  mind."  So  the  head  of  the  college 
had  a  fair  side  to  him  after  all.  The  interview  was 
becoming  productive  of  good  results.  The  President, 
who  was  there  to  censure,  was  finding  himself,  perhaps, 
on  the  defensive. '  Morever,  this  young  man  whom  he 
had  looked  upon  as  some  kind  of  a  stage  supernumerary, 
skilled  in  teaching  the  broadsword  exercise  and  how  to 
handle  a  musket,  had  moved  apparently  in  other  circles 
than  that  of  the  camp.  This  had  not  occurred  to  him 
on  the  two  occasions  when  he  had  summoned  the  Faculty 
in  general,  once  to  a  meeting  at  the  chapel,  once  to  a 
social  affair  at  his  house.  The  officer  had  been  omitted 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   155 

entirely.  The  two  or  three  professors  and  professors' 
wives  who  noted  the  absence,  ascribed  it  to  the  deep 
mourning  worn  by  the  stranger's  mother  and  sisters, 
upon  whom  as  yet  none  of  their  number  had  called.  Yet 
their  appearance  on  Sunday  when  they  were  seen  on 
way  to  and  from  church  was  very  much  in  their  favor. 
They  had  come,  however,  without  letters  of  introduction. 
Their  friends,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  West,  were  gone.  Then 
there  were  other  reasons,  too.  Mrs.  Fane  and  Clare 
had  not  been  over-cautious  in  their  allusions  to  the 
provincial  nature  of  pretty  much  everything  about  them, 
animal,  vegetable  or  mineral.  Nor  had  good  Mrs.  Jam- 
ieson,  the  landlady,  been  slow  as  a  transmitter  of  their 
expressed  opinions. 

Little  by  little,  before  the  end  of  the  six  weeks,  the 
President  was  beginning  to  see  that  this  military  business 
might  prove  to  be  an  adjunct  of  value  after  all.  Vet 
eran  professors  told  him  that  there  was  marked  change 
in  the  language  and  demeanor  of  the  so-called  battalion 
students  in  the  section  room.  They  sat  or  stood  up 
straight,  were  respectful  in  bearing,  and  surprising  in 
that  they  said  "  sir,"  something  hitherto  almost  unknown. 
It  took  the  veterans  back  to  old  days  at  Yale  and  Har 
vard,  Brown  and  Dartmouth.  The  Governor,  a  war-time 
soldier,  and  certain  State  officials  had  within  that  very 
week  dazed  the  President  by  referring  to  the  remarkable 
change  for  the  better  in  the  street  manners  of  the  stu 
dent  body.  "  Last  year  they  nearly  ran  me  into  the 


156  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

gutter,"  said  the  executive.  "  This  year,  by  Jupiter,  they 
actually  salute  me ! "  The  President  had  gone  home 
pondering.  This  thing  he  had  branded  as  a  necessary 
evil  might  have  its  good  side  after  all.  He  had  risen 
early  that  morning  to  see  for  himself  the  voluntary  drill 
conducted  before  breakfast  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
took  lively  interest  in  the  matter.  Reveille  was  sounded, 
and  the  flag  run  up  at  the  gym,  too  far  from  Clifton 
Hall  or  the  nearest  lodging  or  fraternity  houses  to  dis 
turb  anybody,  yet  it  had  been  complained  of  by  oppo 
nents  of  the  military  department.  He,  too,  supposed  the 
captain  to  be  still  in  Chicago,  and  he  wished  to  satisfy 
himself  that  there  was  no  riotous  disorder,  as  claimed. 
Suddenly  he  had  been  nearly  swept  off  his  feet  by  a  rush 
of  burly  racers  bursting  through  the  grove,  and  then 
had  fairly  collided  with  their  erstwhile  leader,  now  but  a 
rueful  and  raging  follower,  and  the  President  had  heard 
his  explanation,  and  accusation.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
him  to  ask  what  brought  the  party  to  the  lake  shore  at 
this  early  and  unusual  hour.  Stetson  had  the  reputation 
of  being  an  owl,  not  an  early  bird.  Thinking  only  of 
the  lesson  to  be  inculcated,  he  had  sent,  three  hours  later, 
for  the  military  instructor,  and  even  while  reproving 
him  for  a  most  unscriptural  laying  on  of  hands,  had 
himself  been  betrayed  into  a  vehement  exploitation  of  the 
fault  he  condemned,  and  this  too  at  the  expense  of  the 
same  victim.  In  spite  of  widely  different  teaching  and 
temperament,  the  scholar  and  soldier  had  met  on  the 


A  CAT  IN  A  STRANGE  GARRET   157 

common  plane  of  human  frailty.  In  spite  of  mutual , 
antagonism  the  two  were  being  drawn  together.  The 
lamb  and  the  lion  might  even  yet  have  lain  down  together 
in  mutual  amity  and  regard,  but  it  was  not  so  to  be.  The 
janitor  entered  at  the  moment,  after  unanswered  tapping 
at  the  door. 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  the  President,  sir,  and  can't  wait 
—Mr.  Stetson." 


CHAPTER   III 

A   CLASH    IN    CLASSICS 

THE  President  looked  perturbed.     "  It  is  not  my 
hour  for  receiving,"  said  he,  "  but  this  man  and 
I  have  clashed  continually.     Perhaps  you  might 
go  out  this  way,"  and  the  President  indicated  the  door 
that  led  to  the  scene  of  the  recent  scuffle.     Fane  did  not 
wish  to  go  until  he  had  made  his  formal  report  of  young 
Stetson's  misconduct,  but  the  intimation  admitted  of  no 
argument.     "  I'll  return  then  at  noon,  sir,"  said  he,  and 
vanished. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  second  period.  The 
students  were  all  at  recitation.  After  twelve,  and  more 
or  less  grudgingly,  the  President  would  receive  and  listen 
to  callers  on  college  matters,  but  he  much  preferred  the 
Faculty  should  settle  all  questions  at  the  weekly  meeting. 
Some  matters,  however,  would  not  wait,  and  Fane's  was 
one  of  them.  He  held  that  an  example  should  be  made 
of  young  Stetson  forthwith,  and  had  determined  to  press 
the  matter.  With  over  an  hour  to  wait  he  bethought 
himself  of  the  library.  He  had  no  office,  he  had  no 
room,  he  had  no  desk.  The  big  barn  of  a  gymnasium 
was  unfurnished.  He  had  so  reported  to  the  President 

158 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  159 

when  asking  for  a  place  to  keep  his  books,  records,  etc. 
The  President,  as  usual,  said  he  didn't  know  anything 
about  that.  He  couldn't  see  why  there  should  be  any 
records  or  books  in  military  drill,  and  if  there  were,  why 
could  they  not  be  kept  at  home.  "  But  you  might  take  a 
chair  in  the  library,"  said  he,  "and  even  have  a  desk 
there — if  you've  got  a  desk."  Fane  had  no  desk  and  the 
President  had  no  funds  available  to  buy  one,  and  other 
use  for  them,  had  funds  been  available.  Even  the  bul 
letin  board  and  stationery  the  young  officer  found  indis- 
pensible  were  ordered  and  paid  for  by  himself.  Thou 
sands  of  dollars  came  to  the  college  through  the  military 
department,  but  not  one  cent  would  it  spend  for  the  only 
department  that  paid  for  itself.  The  President  had 
referred  him  to  the  Trustees,  the  Trustees  were  scattered, 
but  the  Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee  was  in 
town.  To  him  Fane  had  gone,  only  to  be  told  the  Com 
mittee  could  disburse  nothing  except  on  the  written 
recommendation  of  the  President.  This,  as  it  turned 
out,  was  not  strictly  true,  but  it  was  sufficient.  It  would 
be  a  month  or  more  before  the  Trustees  met,  and  he 
could  bring  his  various  claims  before  them.  This  morn 
ing,  therefore,  he  found  a  seat  in  a  dim  corner  of  the 
library,  and  with  pencil  and  paper  went  to  work  on  cer 
tain  estimates.  Four  or  five  students  were  reading  at 
the  tables.  The  librarian  and  his  assistants  were  noise 
lessly  at  their  work.  They  looked  up  curiously  at  the 
cavalry  uniform,  a  strange  and  unaccustomed  sight,  but 


160  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

said  nothing.  Two  young  girls  from  Clifton  Hall,  with 
their  curly  heads  close  together,  were  poring  over  some 
big  book  of  reference  in  a  window  niche.  Everything 
spoke  of  order  and  decorum.  The  big  bell  in  the  tower 
presently  tolled  the  hour  of  eleven,  whereat  for  a  few 
minutes  there  were  sounds  of  many  footfalls  on  the 
flagstones  without,  and  cheery  voices  on  the  autumn  air. 
Then  all  was  quiet  again.  Another  period  had  begun, 
and  Fane,  tiring  of  his  pencil  work  and  seeking  knowl 
edge,  strolled  quietly  about  the  book-bordered  aisles 
and  alcoves,  and  presently,  over  in  a  rather  remote 
corner,  deep  hidden  between  sheltering  walls  of  calf 
and  vellum,  he  caught  sight  of  the  face  and  form  of  a 
fair  reader,  absorbed  in  her  task.  She  never  raised  her 
head  until,  with  a  start,  she  realized  the  presence  of  this 
man  in  martial  dress,  and  the  color  rushed  to  her  face. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  taken  her  utterly  unawares. 
At  the  cedars,  at  early  morn,  she  had  heard  him  coming 
before  he  hove  in  sight.  Here,  there  was  not  a  second's 
warning.  He  saw  the  blush,  and  he  blessed  it.  "  Talk 
ing  strictly  forbidden,"  was  the  legend  on  the  walls,  so 
neither  spoke,  but  silence  was  eloquent.  Their  lips 
moved  and  their  eyes  shone  bright,  yet  both  were  embar 
rassed.  "  I  had  not  dreamed  this  possible,"  he  mur 
mured. 

"  It  mustn't  be — again,"  she  whispered  in  reply. 
Then,  inconsequently,  "  Did  you  tell  me  Colonel  West 
would  be  gone  some  time  ?  " 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  161 

"  All  winter,  I  fear.  Tell  me,  you  have  met  my  sister, 
and — is  it  imagination  ? — she  spoke  as  though  you  seemed 
to  avoid  her." 

The  color  slowly  mounted  to  the  face  that  seemed  so 
pale  but  the  moment  before  he  spoke.  She  bowed  her 
head  as  though  to  think  before  replying.  Then,  her 
hands  clasping  above  the  heavy  volume  that  lay  before 
her,  she  looked  one  instant  up  into  his  eyes.  The  love 
in  them  burned  even  through  her  quickly  lowered  lids. 

"  I  should  have  been  so  glad  to  know  her — elsewhere," 
she  answered  faintly.  "Everyone  likes  her,  respects 
her.  She  is  so  capable,  so  cheerful  and  brave — an  exam 
ple  to  us  others,  but  then " 

"  Then  what?  "  and  he  bent  lower. 

"  I  shrink  from  speaking  to  anyone  of — last  year,  and 
of  having  known  you,  and  I  feared  she  might — ask." 

"  Jane  is  a  silent  woman,  Miss  Ethel.  She  says  noth 
ing  about — any  of  you.  I  had  to  drag  it  out  of  her." 

"That  I  seemed  to  avoid  her?"  Up  glanced  the 
violet,  heavily  fringed  eyes  again;  then  down. 

"  That — she  had  even  met  you.  I  was  impatient.  I 
had  to  ask." 

"  I  wish — you  hadn't.     Please  don't  again." 

"But,  can't  you  see?  It  is  only  through  her  that  I 
can  hope  to  meet  you." 

"  And  that  is  just  what — I  wish  to  avoid." 

"Wish  to?"  and  now  he  straightened  suddenly  and 
drew  away. 


162  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  Need  to !  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,  Captain 
Fane.  It  is " 

But  here  she,  too,  suddenly  straightened  and  sat  erect 
in  her  chair.  The  soft  eyes  that  had  begun  to  brim  over 
now  began  to  blaze.  A  flush  of  indignation  swept  to  her 
brows,  and,  following  the  direction  of  her  gaze,  he  who 
had  again  bent  low  at  her  sweet  yet  reluctant  admission, 
whirled  to  his  left  and  there,  leering  at  them  from  the 
entrance  to  the  little  alcove,  barely  six  feet  away,  stood 
a  short,  stout,  florid,  loudly-dressed  man  of  fifty:  an 
unprepossessing  person  at  any  time,  a  most  objectionable 
specimen  at  the  moment.  But  the  grin  about  the  coarse 
and  bearded  lips  faded  slowly.  The  bold  insolence  of 
his  gaze  died  out  of  the  red-rimmed  eyes,  for  in  an 
instant,  planting  himself  between  the  intruder  and  the 
girl,  Fane  faced  him  squarely  with  an  uncompromising 
"What  do  you  want?"  and  the  ring  in  the  low-toned 
query  lifted  every  head  in  the  room  and  brought  the 
librarian  tip-toeing  and  remonstrant  from  his  desk. 

"  I'm  looking  for  Cap  Fane,"  said  the  visitor  uneasily, 
twirling  his  hat  and  shifting  to  the  other  foot,  cased  in 
its  shiny  patent  leather. 

"  Fane  is  my  name.  '  Cap '  is  not  my  title.  Come 
outside,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  officer  led  the  way 
to  the  outer  air.  At  the  head  of  the  broad  stone  steps 
and  in  the  full  glare  of  the  meridian  sunshine  he  again 
turned  upon  his  caller,  and  then  almost  recoiled, — 
startled. 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  163 

Somewhere  he  had  seen  and  known  something 
in  that  face — or  in  the  mate  to  that  face;  had  seen, 
had  known  and  had  grown  to  hate  it,  for  the  sight  of 
this  one,  already  assuming  apologetic,  appeasing,  con 
ciliatory  semblance  of  a  smile,  was  enough  to  set  his 
finger  nails  biting  into  his  palm,  and  to  fill  his  eyes 
with  fire. 

The  man  saw  it, — the  clinch  of  the  white  fist,  the  set 
of  the  teeth,  the  stern,  intent,  threatening  gaze  straight 
into  his  eyes,  and  sensibly  he  began  to  cringe.  He  had 
come  confident,  truculent,  ready  to  bully.  He  was 
whipped  without  a  sign  of  encounter. 

"  I  just  left  old  man  Parsons,"  he  nervously  began, 
"  and  he  told  me  to  see  you.  It's  about  my  boy." 

"  One  moment.  Old  man  Parsons,  did  you  say  ? " 
And  the  right  hand,  evading  the  moist  and  pudgy  mem 
ber  extended  in  awkward  essay,  went  up  to  the  visor  of 
the  forage-cap  and  pulled  it  further  down  upon  the 
scarred  eyebrow,  then  drew  back  behind  the  hip." 

"  Old  man  Parsons,  yes,"  was  the  hesitant  answer. 
"The  President,  you  know." 

"  The  President  I  do  know,  but  never  as  Old  Man 
Parsons,"  and  all  the  time  Fane  was  studying  that 
strangely  familiar  face  with  menacing  eyes.  The  man 
who  had  come,  as  he  told  his  bunch  of  cronies  an  hour 
before,  "  to  eat  up  that  young  rooster,"  was  wilting 
under  the  unsparing  scrutiny. 

"  Well— uh— Cap— Captain,  it's  this  way.     That  boy 


164  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

of  mine — he  ain't  fit  to  'tend  drill  and  tote  a  twenty- 
pound  gun.  He's  been  sickly  ever  since  he  was  a  kid." 

"  That's  the  reason  he's  out  all  night — gambling  over 
at  the  Island?" 

In  spite  of  its  mahogany  flush  a  shade  of  gray  stole 
over  the  coarse  face,  but  it  was  not  yet  time  to  sur 
render. 

"  He  only  went  out  for  a  swim.  You  see  he  can't 
sleep  now  like  he  could  before  they  began  that  damn  early 
morning  hornblowing  up  the  hill,"  began  the  defender, 
but  dropped  it.  That  grim  young  fighting  face  in  front 
of  his  had  too  much  in  reserve. 

"  That  won't  do,  sir.  You  couldn't  hire  him  to  take 
a  swim,  with  the  frost  thick  on  the  shore.  I  saw  the 
boatload  of  six  coming  back  at  reveille.  Now  to  cut 
this  short,  I  have  reported  your  son  absent  from  every 
drill  but  one  since  the  term  began,  and  for  tendering  a 
certificate  he  knew  to  be  false.  I  have  much  more  to 
report  of  him  now." 

"  But,  Captain,  just  a  minute.  The  old — the  Presi 
dent — said  I  was  just  to  see  you  and  we  could  fix  it  up 
between  us.  I  ain't  saying  the  boy's  all  right,  only  you 
see  he  worked  this  game  through  all  last  year  without 
their  making  him  drill,  and  he  thought  he  could  work  it 
again.  You'd  do  the  same  if  you  were  a  boy." 

But  Fane  held  up  his  hand.  "  Mr.  Stetson,"  said  he 
"  it  is  no  longer  a  matter  of  drill.  It  is  a  matter  of 
decency.  In  five  minutes  I  mean  to  recommend  his 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  165 

expulsion.  You  can  come  and  say  what  you  like  to  the 
President,  but " 

And  here  the  great  bell  in  the  tower  began  its  solemn 
toll  of  twelve.  From  halls  and  corridors  in  the  adjacent 
buildings  the  students  came  trooping  noisily  forth. 
From  the  doorway  behind  them  three  or  four  young  girls 
stepped  into  the  sunlight  and  glanced  half  curiously,  half 
timidly  at  the  strangely  assorted  pair,  opposites  in  almost 
every  detail  of  feature,  form  and  dress.  Then  came  the 
librarian,  ushering  before  him  a  few  laggards  and  hold 
ing  open  the  heavy  door  for  others  still  to  follow.  His 
assistant  came  and  went,  and  still  he  stood,  looking  back, 
impatient.  And  finally  She  came,  hurriedly  and  with 
downcast  eyes,  and  Fane  lifted  his  cap  and  bowed  low, 
a  reverence  she  noticed  with  the  merest  upward  sweep 
of  the  lids,  the  faintest  inclination  of  the  head,  and  passed 
swiftly  down  the  broad  steps  and  round  the  eastern 
corner,  followed  by  the  eyes  of  two,  at  least,  until  out  of 
sight. 

Then  when  Fane,  without  further  word  to  his  visitor, 
would  have  started  for  the  office,  the  latter  spoke.  He 
was  tremulous  now  with  wrath. 

"You  may  think,  young  feller,  that  you're  cock  of 
this  walk,"  said  he,  "  but  there's  more'n  one  way  of 
bringing  a  man  to  his  senses.  You  get  that  boy  of  mine 
into  trouble  and,  by  God,  I'll  settle  you  if  it  takes  a  mil 
lion  !  "  He  clapped  his  low-topped  Derby  on  his  round 
head  with  vindictive  thump.  "  Perhaps  that  will  be  one 


166  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

way!  "  and  a  jerk  of  the  head  in  the  direction  taken  by 
Miss  Hoyt  told  too  well  what  he  meant. 

Fane  was  back  in  a  twinkling,  his  own  face  now  white 
with  fury,  his  rattan  switch  shaking  in  his  clinched  right 
hand.  The  big  man  backed  off  until  held  by  the  railing. 
The  librarian  uplifted  his  hands.  "  Oh,  don't — oh, 
please ! "  he  cried,  aghast  at  such  utterly  unclassical 
symptoms.  Professor  Sharpe,  passing  rapidly,  seemed 
to  read  the  indications  at  a  glance,  and  ran  to  the  steps. 
He,  too,  had  grown  to  like  the  soldier,  and  with  con 
sternation  in  his  eyes  saw  that  one  available  hand 
uplifted  as  though  to  strike.  Instantly  he  sprang  and 
seized  the  supple  wrist.  "  Not  that !  Not  that,  Cap 
tain  ! "  he  pleaded.  "  Come  with  me.  I  know  this 
man,"  and  sought  to  draw  him  away.  But  Fane  stood 
fast,  though  he  lowered  him  arm.  He  was  quivering 
from  head  to  foot,  and  when  he  found  words  to  speak 
the  hardened  bully  above  him  on  the  steps  shrank,  despite 
his  assumed  bravado. 

"  Somewhere  I  have  seen  you — or  your  double — 
before.  Now,  mark  my  words.  Threaten  me  all  you 
please  or  dare,  but  attempt  to  carry  out  that — last  threat, 
— you  know  what  I  mean,  you  blackguard, — and  you'll 
never  bully  again !  " 

Then  Sharpe  led  him,  still  quivering,  away. 

Five  days  later  there  was  a  lively  discussion  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Faculty.  The  President,  the  Board  of 
Professors  and  most  of  the  elder  instructors  were  pres- 


'  FANE  WAS  BACK  IN  A  TWINKLING,  His  OWN  FACE  Now  WHITE  WITH  FURY 


•  ;  •.  . 


A   CLASH   IN    CLASSICS  167 

ent.  The  head  of  the  military  department  had,  as  yet, 
never  been  bidden  to  attend.  When  later  called  upon 
to  say  how  or  why  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  it  was 
Captain  Fane's  right  and  privilege  to  appear,  and  that 
he  should  have  been  invited,  the  President  said  he  really 
didn't  know.  It  never  had  occurred  to  him,  however, 
that  a  soldier  had  any  place  in  that  body,  or  would  even 
care  to  attend.  There  was  no  one,  therefore,  to  repre 
sent  the  case  of  what  might  be  called  the  General  Gov 
ernment  vs.  Stetson.  Of  all  the  names  on  the  under 
graduate  rolls  this  one  stood  pre-eminent  as  having  been 
most  frequent  before  the  Faculty.  They  all  knew  it, 
and  knew  no  good  of  it.  They  had  heard,  many  of 
them,  that  it  was  freighted  now  with  charges  that  were 
more  serious  than  ever  before.  They  had  heard,  some 
of  them,  the  student's  side  of  the  story,  for,  accompanied 
by  one  of  the  Trustees,  a  politician  of  much  prominence 
and  some  power,  the  father  had  called  upon  several  of 
their  number.  They  had  heard,  a  limited  few,  like 
Sharpe  and  Lorimer,  that  the  instructor's  charges,  if  sus- 
stained,  would  warrant  expulsion  or  prolonged  suspen 
sion.  They  had  heard,  none  of  them,  the  entire  story, 
nor  was  it  likely  they  ever  would,  with  Fane  unsum- 
moned.  They  were  assembled  in  some  embarrassment, 
because  in  the  minds  of  many  of  them  this  thought  was 
uppermost:  Action  adverse  to  that  particular  student 
would  crystallize  the  antagonism  of  that  particular 
Trustee. 


168  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

Of  just  what  arguments  were  brought  to  bear,  of  the 
precise  nature  of  the  conference,  no  man  present  could 
or  would  thereafter  give  accurate  account.  It  was 
admitted  that  the  President  opened  the  case  in  "  gin 
gerly  "  fashion,  which,  being  interpreted,  meant  that  there 
was  no  "  ginger,"  in  the  modern  acceptance  of  the  term, 
in  either  his  prelude  or  his  summing  up.  It  was  remem 
bered  that  several  spoke  pathetically  of  this  view  of  the 
case, — that  the  youth  had  been  motherless  for  many 
years,  the  father  immersed  in  business  (he  owned  three 
saloons  within  the  corporate  limits  of  Groveton  and 
another  on  the  Island)  and  there  had  been  no  one  to 
guard  the  lad  from  evil.  Another  point  was  the  paternal 
devotion  now  so  vividly  in  evidence.  It  was  much  to 
the  credit  of  Stetson,  senior,  himself  destitute  of  college 
or  religious  training,  that  he  should  be  so  bent  on  his  boy's 
obtaining  both  under  the  guidance  of  our  President. 
(A  capital  point,  that!)  It  was  hinted  delicately,  diplo 
matically,  that,  while  the  natural  enthusiasm  of  American 
youth  for  military  glory,  and  the  drill  as  now  conducted, 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  new  toy,  made  a  combin 
ation  that  served  to  develop  unusual  and  unlooked-for 
interest  in  a  large  number  of  students,  there  were  still 
young  men  who  seriously  opposed  it,  and  it  was  inti 
mated  that  such  young  men  were  made  the  object  of 
especial — perhaps  spite  was  too  strong  a  word  to 
employ — especial  attention  on  part  of  the  new  and  very 
zealous  instructor,  who,  it  might  be  said  without  dis- 


A   CLASH   IN    CLASSICS  169 

paragement  or  prejudice,  was  possibly  a  trifle  intolerant 
of  unmilitary  men  or  methods.  He  had  been  so  long 
"  encased  in  the  West  Point  strait-jacket "  that  he  had 
as  yet  not  sufficiently  broadened,  it  might  be  hazarded; 
to  appreciate  the  true  characteristics  of  the  young  Amer 
ican  citizen.  In  fine,  while  there  was  much  to  be  said,  as 
remarked  one  gifted  professor,  on  both  sides,  there  was 
little  said  except  on  one.  After  an  hour  of  the  sort  of 
talk  recorded  above,  the  Faculty  were  in  more  than  com 
plaisant  mood  and  the  whole  case  might  have  gone  by 
default  had  not  Lorimer  finally  got  the  eye  of  the  Presi 
dent  and  the  ear  of  his  fellows.  Sharpe  had  made  one 
or  two  attempts,  but  the  President,  apparently,  would  not 
give  him  the  floor.  Lorimer  spoke,  spoke  cautiously, 
courteously  and  yet  to  the  point.  He  was  one  of  the 
very  few,  he  said,  who  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
young  officer.  He  had  seen  in  him  nothing  of  the 
martinet,  but  very  much  of  the  gentleman.  He  was 
impressed  with  his  arguments  and  his  earnestness,  and 
he  deemed  it  due  to  the  Government,  to  the  college,  to 
the  Faculty  and  to  the  instructor  himself  that  the  latter 
should  be  heard.  He  therefore  moved  that  the  whole 
subject  be  postponed  until  next  regular  meeting,  a 
fortnight  hence,  and  that  Captain  Fane  be  invited  to 
attend  and  address  them. 

Glad  enough  to  temporize,  the  Faculty  so  voted,  the 
President  so  ordered, — adding  of  his  own  motion,  how 
ever,  that,  pending  final  action,  the  student  in  the  case, 


170  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

"  while  not  expected  to  drill,  would  attend  all  classes," 
which  gave  that  ingenuous  youth  the  appearance  of  hav 
ing  come  out  topmost  in  the  fight,  as  he  continued  to  be 
present  at  such  functions  as  he  choose  to  attend,  and 
absent  from  all  others. 

It  was  an  arrangement  that  could  not  fail  to  bear 
fruit,  and  bitter  fruit  at  that. 

In  his  brief  arraignment  of  the  student  Fane  had 
confined  himself  to  his  deliberate  absences,  to  his  false 
certificate,  and  to  his  blasphemous  abuse  of  an  instructor. 
In  no  wise  had  Miss  Hoyt  been  referred  to.  It  was  a 
question  from  sister  Jane  that  opened  the  brother's  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  despite  his  caution  her  name  might  be 
dragged  in.  It  was  the  anxiety  and  the  instant  flush 
in  his  face  that  opened  her  eyes  to  the  possibilities  in  the 
case,  and  Jane  was  wise.  She  did  not  press  her  question. 
She  wached  and  waited.  The  mother  had  been  ailing  a 
bit.  The  sofa  and  the  magazines  had  been  her  solace 
of  late,  for  Lady  Clare  had  troubles  of  her  own,  and  was 
not  too  helpful.  The  mother  missed,  and  missed  inex 
pressibly,  the  gayety  and  gossip  of  garrison  life — the 
attentions  paid  the  wife  of  the  commanding  officer. 
Never  until  now  had  she  found  herself  the  object  of  so 
little  consideration.  Pet,  engrossed  in  her  young  hus 
band  and  her  wifely  and  social  duties,  wrote  only  twice 
a  week,  when  the  mother  would  barely  have  been  content 
had  she  written  twice  a  day.  Clare  had  been  moping 
much,  and  was  too  full  of  sighing  to  be  a  comfort.  Jane 


A    CLASH    IX    CLASSICS  171 

and  Ronald  had  many  busy  hours  each  day  at  college, 
yet  managed  to  spend  their  evenings  mostly  at  the 
mother's  side,  and  to  give  her  some  time  every  afternoon. 
By  common  consent  she  was  to  be  told  little  or  nothing 
of  any  unpleasant  experience  either  Jane  or  he  might 
encounter;  but,  in  that  bustling  community,  it  was 
unlikely  that  she  should  hear  nothing  of  what  so  vehe 
mently  interested  her  son.  The  four — mother,  daugh 
ters  and  son — occupied  a  little  table  in  the  dining-room 
separate  from  that  of  the  students,  which  was  thrice 
daily  crowded  with  joyous,  eager  young  fellows  in  the 
prime  of  life  and  vigor,  lads  who  were  often  in  uproar 
ious  spirits  and  were  seldom  silent.  The  mother  had 
persuaded  herself  she  was  accepting  her  changed  fort 
unes  and  her  hard  luck  with  Christian  resignation  and 
cheerfulness,  but  Jane  could  see,  as  well  as  others,  how 
the  son  was  saddened  by  her  frequent  moan.  Jane  saw, 
too,  how  his  spirit  and  temper  were  being  tried  by  the 
annoyances  and  obstacles  thrown  in  his  way.  She  heard 
— she  could  not  help  lirq"""g  ammy  the  "  co-eds,"  her 
pupils — all  manner  of  student  chatter  and  gossip  about 
the  affairs  in  the  military  department  Then  she  began 
to  hear  other  whispers  and  to  note  the  eagerness  of  his 
questions  about  Miss  Hoyt.  Then  she  remembered  what 
someone  had  written  the  summer  so  long  ago,  so  very 
long  ago,  it  seemed,  though  it  was  but  the  previous  year, 
of  Ronald's  devotions  to  a  girl  at  West  Point.  Wisely 
therefore  she  waited.  She  would  not  add  to  his  worries 


173  THE   MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

now,  for  they  were  many.    Everything  depended  on  that 
Faculty  meeting.     She  would  wait  for  that. 

It  came  and,  sharp  at  the  appointed  time,  Fane  was  on 
hand.  Sharpe  and  Lorimer  greeted  him  with  much  cor 
diality  and  presented  him  to  one  or  two  elders  who  had 
expressed  a  desire  to  meet  him.  The  President  came, 
and  without  greeting  to  anybody  went  straight  to  busi 
ness.  The  cases  of  certain  students  reported  for  absence 
from  recitations  or  "  rhetoricals,"  and  for  minor  infrac 
tions  of  college  rules,  were  taken  up  and  discussed  with 
much  spirit,  and  Fane  sat  a  silent  listener.  He  noted  that 
while  a  certain  few  of  the  Faculty  said  little  or  nothing, 
— that  one,  indeed,  of  their  number  sat  with  closed  eyes, 
— there  were  others  that  were  keenly  alert  in  every  case, 
and  the  Professor  of  Oratory  and  Elocution  spoke  upon 
all.  The  President  would  let  the  talk  and  argument  pro 
ceed  until  it  wearied  him,  then,  with  abrupt  decision,  end 
it  by  the  announcement  that  Student  So-and-So  would  be 
suspended,  sustained,  penalized  or  admonished,  as  seemed 
to  him  expedient  or  necessary,  and  in  four  cases  out  of 
five  there  was  not  a  murmur  of  dissent.  Fane  could  not 
fail  to  see  that  the  decisions  met  the  view  of  the  major 
ity,  and  that  "  the  punishment  fit  the  crime."  What  he 
asked  himself,  after  much  more  than  an  hour's  observa 
tion,  was,  Why  the  cases  were  submitted  to  the  Faculty 
at  all?  for  the  President  decided  without  reference 
to  the  argument.  It  was  late  in  the  day,  and  all 
were  wearied  when  at  last  the  President  announced, 


A   CLASH   IN    CLASSICS  173 

"  And  now  we  come  to  the  last  case,  that  of  Stetson, 
held  over  from  last  meeting.  I  shall  ask  Mr. — er — 
Captain  Fane,  if  he  is  present "  ( for  the  President  had 
not  seemed  to  see  him)  "  to  state  the  case  from  his  point 
of  view." 

Fane  had  sometimes  figured  as  judge  advocate  of  a 
general  court,  and  was  not  unused  to  presenting  a  case. 
Hitherto  his  auditors  had  been  made  up  exclusively  of 
military  men.  Here  there  was  not  one.  Some  in  fact 
were  women.  He  spoke  briefly,  and  had  schooled  him 
self  to  speak  calmly.  From  his  point  of  view,  the  West 
Point  view,  the  presentation  of  a  false  certificate  was  the 
gravest  offense.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that  it  seemed 
to  make  but  faint  impression.  He  finished  somewhat 
lamely,  abruptly,  and  amidst  silence  The  President 
reflected  a  moment,  then  spoke: 

"  This  whole  matter  is,  I  confess,  perplexing  to  me  for 
various  reasons.  Mr. — the  captain — regards  it  more 
seriously  than  I  had  been  prepared  to  expect.  He  has 
indeed  referred  to  his  duties,  in  conversation  with  me,  in 
a  way  to  make  me  suppose  that  he  considers  that  we  are 
bound  to  require  our  students  to  attend  these  drills 
whether  they  like  it  or  not.  Am  I — not  right  ?  " 

Fane  again  arose.  "  That  is  certainly  my  view,  sir. 
It  is  what  I  should  call  an  implied  contract.  The  Gov 
ernment  agrees  to  give  the  college  what  amounts  to  so 
much  money, — in  this  case  what  amounts  to  one-fifth 
the  total  annual  income, — in  consideration  of  its,  in 


174  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

turn,  maintaining  instruction  in  military  tactics  and 
discipline.  If  tlie  question  be  left  to  the  students 
whether  they  shall  or  shall  not  receive  instruction,  they 
probably  will  decide  they  should  not,  in  which  case,  as 
I  look  at  it  the  only  duty  left  to  me  to  perform  would 
be  to  promptly  inform  the  War  Department  of  the 
decision  and  await  further  orders.  Failing  to  comply 
with  your  share  of  the  compact  would  entail,  in  my 
opinion,  forfeiture  of  the  Government  bounty." 

"  How  is  that,  Professor  Beerbohm  ?  "  asked  the  Presi 
dent  abruptly. 

A  tall,  bearded,  spectacled  man  found  his  feet  and 
his  tongue  at  the  same  instant.  He  looked  straight  at 
Fane,  not  at  the  Chair,  and  he  spoke  with  austerity  and 
decision. 

"  If  this  question  is  new  here,"  said  he,  "  it  is  not  so 
at  the  University  of  Fredonia,  as  I  happen  to  know. 
Three  years  ago  the  officer  sent  to  us  there  started  in 
with  the  same  proposition,  but  had  to  drop  it.  Drills 
were  unpopular  and  obstructive,  and  have  been  dis 
pensed  with  entirely ! " 

Then  the  Professor  sat  down,  and  the  silence  was 
intense.  , 

Fane  presently  arose.  "  May  I  ask,"  said  he  address 
ing  the  Chair,  "  whether  the  drills  were  dispensed  with 
by  War  Department  or  University  authority  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  answered  the 
President,  "  but  Professor  Beerbohm  knows  whereof  he 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  175 

speaks.  What  has  been  decided  there  may  well  apply  to 
us  here." 

Fane  slid  a  hand  into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  blouse 
and  drew  forth  a  small  memorandum  book. 

"  The  information  given  by  Professor  Beerbohm,"  said 
he  slowly,  "  is  certainly  valuable,  though  possibly  not  in 
the  way  intended.  The  professor  cannot  be  mistaken  ?  " 
he  asked,  this  time  addressing  that  gentleman.  "  The 
drills  were  entirely  dispensed  with?  " 

"  Entirely,  and  nearly  two  years  ago." 

"  And  the  income  from  the  sale  of  public  lands — that 
also  was — dispensed  with  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !     That  was  never  contemplated." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Fane.  "  I  fancy,  however,  that 
we  shall  hear  further  as  to  that,"  and,  resuming  his  seat 
he  began  to  write.  He  desired  to  record  the  exact  words 
of  Professor  Beerbohm  while  the  matter  was  still  fresh 
in  his  mind,  and  Professer  Beerbohm,  noting  it,  flushed 
uneasily. 

"  What  I  said,"  he  began  again,  and  without  rising, 
"  was  purely  for  the  information  of  the  members  here 
present.  I  have  no  desire  to  appear  as  an  informant 
against  the  University  of  Fredonia." 

"  What  the  gentleman  said,"  responded  Fane,  rising 
and  addressing  the  Chair,  "  was  plainly  for  the  purpose 
of  influencing  this  body, — impressing  it  with  the  idea 
that  this  institution  may  dispense  with  military  instruc 
tion  without  violating  an  implied  contract.  If  the  gentle- 


176  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

man  is  right,  then  I  am  all  wrong,  and  my  mission 
here  is  ended." 

This  was  indeed  a  new  and  hitherto  undreamed  of 
state  of  affairs.  Fane's  immediate  predecessor  as  drill 
instructor  had  been  but  a  brief  time  in  the  army,  had 
much  preferred  the  arts  of  peace,  had  gradually  worked 
into  another  department  and  finally  into  a  different 
sphere.  Just  as  gradually  as  he  had  gone  up  in  collegiate 
circles  the  military  department  had  gone  down.  "  A 
necessary  evil,"  the  President  had  called  it  the  previous 
year.  Now,  if  Beerbohm  were  right  it  was  not  even  a 
necessary,  it  was  an  unmitigated,  evil.  If  the  Depart 
ment  were  an  evil,  then  were  the  students  warranted  in 
their  stand  against  it;  then  was  Stetson  a  martyr,  and 
Fane  a  martinet.  To  press  the  question  then  and  there 
would  have  resulted  in  Fane's  defeat,  as  Sharpe  and 
Lorimer  saw,  and  just  as  the  Professor  of  Elocution 
arose  to  his  feet  and  began  with  the  customary  "  It  seems 
to  me  there  is  much  yet  to  be  said  on  both  sides,"  the 
President  impatiently  broke  in: 

"  And  it  should  be  said  only  by  those  who  know  some 
thing  about  it!  Professor  Beerbohm  is  confident  of  his 
position:  Mr. — er — Captain  Fane  is  confident  of  his. 
Until  we  can  settle  this  question  we  cannot  settle  that  of 
Stetson.  The  entire  matter  is  therefore  laid  over  until 
next  meeting,  and  this  is  adjourned."  It  was  the  Presi 
dent's  way  and  will,  and  the  Faculty  long  had  bowed 
to  both. 


A    CLASH    IN    CLASSICS  177 

But  Professor  Beerbohm  came  to  Fane  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs: 

"  I  hope  you  appreciate  my  position — er — Captain,  and 
that  I  am  not  to  be  quoted  in  this  matter,"  said  he, 
"especially  if  any  injury  may  be  done  Fredonia." 

"  You  spoke  publicly,  Professor  Beerbohm,"  was  the 
uncompromising  reply.  "  I  shall  not  give  your  name 
unless  called  for,  but  your  words  go  to  Washington 
to-night." 


CHAPTER   IV 

MISCHIEF  AFOOT 

THERE  was  the  mischief  to  pay  on  College  Hill. 
Ten  days  more  immunity  from  either  drill  or 
penalty  had  put  young  Stetson  on  a  pinnacle. 
Ten  days  had  brought  letters  that  put  Beerbohm  in  a 
plight.  The  drills  at  Fredonia  had  indeed  been  dis 
pensed  with,  as  was  said,  only  such  students  as  "  volun 
teered  "  being  on  the  rolls  of  the  retired  army  officer 
there  on  duty,  and  these  few  "  drilled  "  only  when  the 
spirit  moved  them— which  was  seldom.  All  on  a  sudden 
an  inspector  appeared ,-  put  questions  to  the  President  and 
the  Professor  of  Military  Science;  took  down  their 
answers,  and  went  his  way.  The  officer  knew  what  it 
meant,  and  told  the  President  to  look  out  for  squalls. 
This  happened  just  about  the  time  that  a  letter  came 
from  Professor  Beerbohm  intimating  that  perhaps  he 
had  been  indiscreet,  and  that  they  had  a  young  man  at 
Groveton  "  who  seemed  disposed  to  make  trouble." 
That  was  enough  to  stamp  Beerbohm  as  the  witless 
betrayer,  for  these  were  days  before  the  Government 
started  the  system  of  regular  inspection  of  its  subsidized 
colleges,  and  this  episode  was  one  of  the  reasons.  There 
came  an  indignant,  injured  letter  from  the  head  of  Fre- 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  179 

donia  to  his  fellow  head  of  Groveton.  It  was  an  ungen 
erous  thing  in  one  great  institution  so  to  injure  the  busi 
ness  interests  of  another,  and  indeed  the  head  of  Grove- 
ton  was  quite  ready  to  take  that  view  of  it,  and  so  tak 
ing,  sent  for  Mr. — a — Captain  Fane  and  said  that  here 
after  when  he  had  any  criticism  to  make  of  the  manage 
ment  of  college  affairs  he  preferred  them  to  be  made  to 
him,  the  President,  and  not  to  "  outsiders."  It  was  not 
the  proper  thing  for  members  of  the  Faculty  of  one 
institution  to  be  interfering  in  the  affairs  of  another,  and 
he  deprecated  any  such  action  as  Mr.  Fane  had  taken  in 
this  matter.  Fane  replied  with  rising  temper,  but  with 
respectful  tone  and  manner,  that  Professor  Beerbohm 
had  spoken  coram  publico,  had  pointed  to  Fredonia's 
immunity  from  consequences  as  warrant  for  like  disre 
gard  at  Groveton,  and  it  was  his  duty,  in  his  opinion,  to 
lose  n6  time  in  warning  both  the  Government  and  Grove- 
ton.  He  had  warned  the  Government.  He  now  warned 
Groveton. 

It  fairly  staggered  the  President.  He  had  had  to  deal, 
hitherto,  only  with  men  bound  solely  to  him  and  the 
college.  Here  was  a  youth  who  could  indeed  "  perceive 
a  divided  duty."  Then  more  letters  came  from  Fre- 
donia,  upbraiding  Beerbohm,  and  that  sorely  badgered 
scientist  conceived  it  just  to  say  that  Captain  Fane  had 
taken  advantage  of  "  words  spoken  in  debate,"  of  "  a 
privileged  communication,"  in  fact, — something  not 
intended  to  go  outside  that  room,  yet  expected  to  have 


180  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

overwhelming  effect  within.  But  the  first  time  Beer- 
bohm  opened  his  guns  in  this  wise  in  presence  of  the 
officer  in  question,  Fane  fired  up  and  sent  so  sharp  a 
reply  that  more  than  ever  did  the  President  and  a  certain 
few  of  his  followers  look  upon  the  soldier  as  "  a  disturb 
ing  element,"  and  so  refer  to  him. 

But  there  were  other  members,  and  not  a  minority 
now,  whose  eyes  were  opening  to  the  facts  at  issue,  and 
who  clearly  saw  whither  they  had  been  drifting.  "  This 
matter,"  said  they,  "  has  never  before  been  shown  us  in 
the  proper  light.  Now  if  you  can  only  make  it  com 
prehensible  to  the  Trustees " 

But  there  was  the  rub !  West  had  gone  far  eastward. 
Of  the  two  local  members  of  the  Executive  Committee 
one  was  deep  in  politics,  the  other  in  plans  for  higher 
education.  The  former  could  see  things  only  as  they 
affected  his  prospects  for  office;  the  other,  a  most  ami 
able  divine,  only  through  the  spectacles  of  the  President 
They  hailed  from  the  same  New  England  town  and 
college. 

But  even  these  gentlemen  heard  with  alarm  of  the 
result  at  Fredonia,  whose  President  wrote  that,  thanks 
to  the  "  impertiment  interference "  of  this  new  drill- 
master  at  Groveton,  they  had  been  notified  that  unless 
the  conditions  of  the  act  were  in  future  faithfully 
observed,  steps  would  be  taken  to  recover  the  income 
derived  from  government  lands.  It  would  seem,  there 
fore,  that  among  the  Dons  of  both  sister  institutions 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  181 

some  intemperate  talk  and  wrath  had  been  aroused,  not, 
of  course,  at  the  expense  of  the  Trustees  and  officials, 
who,  knowing  the  law,  had  sought  its  benefits  and  slighted 
its  obligations;  not  at  the  expense  of  those  who  would 
take  without  paying,  but  wholly  at  the  expense  of  the 
"  drill  master  "  referred  to  and  the  self-snared,  unwilling, 
unhappy  witness  who  had  brought  Fredonia  to  book. 
One  of  the  President's  pet  topics  when  sermonizing  had 
been  the  relaxation  of  public  morals  consequent  upon  the 
great  war, — "  the  host  of  discharged  soldiery,  with  all 
the  vices  of  the  camp,  turned  loose  upon  peace-loving, 
law-abiding,  God-fearing  communities,"  and  now,  lo! 
here  was  a  soldier  daring  to  preach  to  him  and  to  others, 
law-abiding  and  God-fearing,  as  to  the  meaning  of  a 
moral  obligation.  The  President  felt  sorely  aggrieved, 
and  said  so,  wherein  he  showed  himself,  after  all,  much 
more  human  than  divine.  How  many  another  preacher 
has  there  lived  with  volumes  of  rebuke  for  other  peo 
ple's  sins  and  never  a  thought  of  his  own!  How  many 
a  friend  is  gifted  with  phenomenal  insight  into  our  short 
comings,  but  has  no  eyes  for  his,  or  her,  individual 
iniquities!  And  now  Fredonia  and  Groveton,  like  many 
another  caught  in  the  act,  really  suffered  far  less  from 
the  contemplation  of  their  sins  of  omission  than  from 
chagrin  at  being  found  out.  Beerbohm  and  Fane,  antag 
onistic  from  the  start,  had  come  at  least  to  one  point  in 
common.  Each  was  the  object  of  hearty  condemnation 
from  "  others  in  authority." 


182  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  that  Fane 
became  conscious  of  a  new  element  of  mischief.  In 
some  way  the  matter  had  got  into  the  local  press.  Pro 
vincial  editors  could  not  well  be  expected  to  know  too 
much  of  Federal  law  and  of  acts  of  Congress  passed 
and  forgotten  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  civil  war.  It  was 
enough  for  them  that  something  out  of  the  common  run 
of  collegiate  rows  had  settled  on  Groveton,  and  there 
was  never  a  time  when  their  reporters  could  not  find 
voluble  tale  bearers.  Indeed,  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  at  this  time  tongues  and  pens  were  both  inspired, 
for  Fane  was  "  catching  it "  right  and  left,  and  poor  Mrs. 
Fane  was  frantic.  She  had  known  nothing  heretofore 
of  any  life  save  that  guarded  with  every  show  of 
respect,  surrounded  by  the  very  atmosphere  of  defer 
ence  and  courtesy.  Fort  Sheridan,  that  journalistic 
stamping  ground  and  School  for  Scandal,  had  not  then 
been  projected,  and  the  poor  lady  had  never  dreamed  of 
the  flights  to  which  newspaper  imaginings  could  soar. 
It  was  nothing  new  to  Fane.  He  had  been  on  duty  at 
West  Point  when  the  first  Ethiopan  appointees  appeared 
there,  and  certain  New  York  journals  thought  they  had 
found  opportunity  to  wreck  the  fair  fame  of  the  national 
school.  He  had  served  in  the  West,  and  been  favored 
with  many  a  "  marked  copy "  expressive  of  editorial 
views  on  the  atrocities  of  our  troops  in  Indian  campaign 
when  the  atrocities  were  all  on  the  other  side.  He  had 
been  where  orders  were  orders,  and  he  di4  as  orders 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  183 

demanded,  no  matter  what  the  papers  might  say.  But 
now,  between  what  was  hinted  in  collegiate  cloisters  and 
hatched  in  the  sanctums,  a  condition  indeed  serious  came 
to  confront  him. 

He  had  been  conscious,  of  course,  for  weeks,  of  the 
impudence  of  street  loafers  and  small  boys — the  grins 
and  nudgings  that  greeted  his  coming — the  shouted  imi 
tation  words  of  command,  the  jeers  and  cat-calls  that 
followed  his  goings.  It  was  humiliating  and  vexatious, 
Heaven  knows,  but  he  was  helpless.  With  only  one 
arm  to  fight  with,  he  could  not  resent;  with  no  law  to 
protect  him,  he  could  not  even  protest.  It  is  one  of  the 
penalties  of  serving  our  people  as  a  soldier  that  he  who 
wears  the  livery  must  bear  their  abuse.  It  is  only  of  late 
the  populace  has  begun  to  show  honor  to  the  flag.  It  is 
too  soon,  perhaps,  to  say  when  they  will  show  respect 
for  the  uniform.  Thus  far,  as  a  rule,  that  uniform  is 
honored  only  when  it  comes  in  mass  and  with  shotted 
guns.  The  one  policeman  of  the  suburb,  to  whom  Fane 
quietly  referred  the  matter,  said  he'd  "  run  'em  in  "  if 
caught  in  the  act,  but  added :  "  'Twould  do  no  good. 
Them  fellers  owns  us,  and  so  long  as  they  don't  stone  us 
they  can  say  what  they  like,"  which  proved  to  be  prac 
tically  true,  as  Fane  soon  found. 

Ten  days  of  immunity  from  drill  or  penalty,  as  has 
been  said,  had  put  young  Stetson  on  a  pinnacle.  Twenty 
days  had  now  gone  by  without  bringing  the  feverish  sore 
to  a  head,  for  the  President  had  gone  to  speak  on  the 


.184  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

Ethics  of  Education  at  a  great  Western  university,  and 
had  left  directions  that  the  case  of  Stetson  should  not  be 
called  until  his  return.  Faculty  meeting,  therefore,  had 
been  destitute  of  its  usual  exhilaration.  The  student  in 
question  had  been  boasting  on  the  campus,  and  his  father 
on  the  street  corners,  that,  so  far  from  being  punished, 
he  was  being  upheld  by  the  President.  It  stimulated  the 
few  recalcitrants.  It  staggered  a  bit  the  growing  faith  of 
the  battalion  in  their  instructor.  Stetson  passed  him  at 
first  with  no  other  greeting  than  an  impudent  leer,  but, 
emboldened  by  whiskey,  the  gathering  dusk  and  a  gang 
at  his  back,  he  presently  went  still  further. 

It  was  a  gusty  November  evening.  Fane  was  coming 
briskly  down  the  lakeside  walk  after  a  sharp  and  exhila 
rating  drill.  It  was  his  duty  to  see  the  last  man  out  of 
the  gymnasium,  and  to  lock  the  door.  The  students  who 
went  his  way  toward  town  were  therefore  always  well 
ahead,  and  he  came  on  alone.  Students  traveled  in  squads 
of  six  or  eight,  as  a  rule,  and  in  supporting  distance,  for 
it  was  a  favorite  pastime  of  a  lot  of  young  ruffians  from  the 
shops  and  saloons  of  a  near-by  suburb  to  cruise  about  the 
corners  at  nightfall  in  hopes  of  waylaying  some  stray 
collegian;  the  street  blackguard,  like  that  other  savage, 
the  Apache,  fighting  best  when  ten  to  one.  To  such  as 
these  Fane  in  his  cavalry  uniform  and  crippled  condition 
offered  a  tempting  mark,  but  an  indefinite  sense  of  uncer 
tainty  as  to  the  young  regular's  possibilities  as  a  pistol 
shot,  in  case  that  arm  were  carried  as  was  the  obviously 


MISCHIEF   AFOOT  185 

crippled  one,  had  restricted  their  affronts  to  those  de 
scribed.  Fane  had,  however,  abandoned  that  route  and 
taken  the  longer  and  more  solitary  way  along  the  lake. 
It  led  him  first  through  a  dense  grove  on  the  college 
grounds,  thence  down  to  the  shore  and  under  the  rocky 
cliffs  where  he  had  met  Ethel  Hoyt,  and  so,  by  many 
turnings,  to  the  scattered  homesteads  in  the  midst  of 
which  he  had  found  temporary  lodgment  for  himself  and 
the  mother  and  sister  dependent  upon  him.  Just  as  the 
almost  wintry  gloaming  was  settling  down  upon  the 
peaceful  scene — here,  as  he  rounded  a  rocky  point  and 
came  within  view  of  "  the  white  walls  of  his  home,"  he 
became  aware  of  half  a  dozen  young  fellows,  some  of  the 
same  gang  he  had  hitherto  encountered  about  the  corners 
of  the  avenue  beyond,  roosting  on  a  low,  flat-topped  stone 
wall  beside  the  pathway,  and  tossing  stones  across  it  into 
the  plashing  waters. 

Feigning  not  to  note  his  coming,  though  every  face  was 
toward  him  as  he  turned  the  point,  and  he  saw  it  and  knew 
that  they  were  there  for  his  benefit,  they  kept  up  the 
rapid  fusillade,  and  he  had  either  to  stop  and  wait  for 
them  to  desist,  or  take  the  chance  of  being  hit.  He  chose 
the  latter,  and  went  ahead,  wherein,  said  the  President, 
later,  he  was  entirely  wrong:  he  should  have  politely 
asked  them  to  permit  him  to  pass,  and  they  undoubtedly 
would  have  done  it.  Through  the  slanting  fire  he  went 
unscathed  until  opposite  the  fifth  man,  whose  missile 
glanced  from  his  right  shoulder-strap,  just  under  his  chin 


186  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

and  thence  into  the  lake.  That  might  have  been  an 
accident:  what  followed  was  not.  There  was  a  snigger 
ing  laugh ;  then,  as  he  neither  faltered  nor  turned,  a  more 
aggressive  move.  He  had  caught  sight  of  Stetson  seated 
at  the  end  of  the  row,  and  a  voice  he  instantly  recognized 
as  Stetson's  called  mockingly  after  him : 

"  Hello,  Cap !      How  are  you  now  ?  " 

It  was  a  pound  too  much,  and  as  the  hot  blood  flashed  to 
the  soldier's  temples  and  he  whirled  about  to  face  the 
pot-valiant  gang,  a  stone,  better  aimed  and  weighty,  struck 
him  squarely  between  the  eyes.  Human  nature  could 
stand  no  more.  Spirit  and  temper  had  been  sorely  tried 
for  weeks.  Though  he  reeled  an  instant  from  the  shock 
and  through  a  million  dancing  stars  he  saw  the  treetops 
turning  red,  his  one  good  hand  instinctively  flew  to  the 
guard  of  the  light  sabre  at  his  side,  and  the  long  blade 
leaped  from  the  scabbard  as  he  sprang  at  his  taunting  foe. 
Quick  to  scent  danger  as  to  invite  it,  every  sinner  of  their 
number  was  already  off  the  wall,  and  away.  Only  the 
rearmost  could  the  bleeding  and  half  blinded  soldier  over 
take,  and  him,  howling  blasphemy  and  protestation,  Fane 
battered  over  the  legs  with  the  back  of  his  blade  until  the 
fellow  stumbled  and  fell  on  his  face,  t!ien  with  the  flat 
thrashed  him  over  the  buttocks  until,  scrambling  and 
cursing,  the  victim  managed  to  get  away,  leaving  the 
victor  to  stanch  his  own  wound  and  for  the  moment,  at 
least,  to  mourn  his  luck  that  the  one  brute  he  punished 
was  not  the  one  who  most  deserved  it — Stetson  himself. 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  18t 

When  that  episode  was  duly  aired  before  the  President 
on  the  officer's  report  of  the  student's  action  and  language. 
Fane's  story  was  about  as  above ;  that  of  Stetson  and  his 
corroborating  backers  was  to  the  effect  that  the  officer 
had  taken  offense  at  the  student's  simply  asking  how  he 
was,  and  because  he  had  been  accidentally  hit  with  pebbles 
they  were  pitching  into  the  lake.  The  witnesses  were  five 
to  one  against  him,  and  the  President  called  his  attention 
to  that  significant  fact. 


CHAPTER  V 

" STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS ! " 

THERE  were  three  reasons  why  our  some  time 
hero  did  not  quit  in  deep  chagrin,  if  not  disgust. 
One  was  that  he  knew  that,  in  spite  of  an  adverse 
Fate  and  partially  adverse  Faculty,  he  was  meeting  with 
marked  success  among  the  students.  He  hated  to  be 
beaten.  He  knew  he  could  win,  and  the  doctrine  of  fight 
to  which  he  was  born  said — Stand  to  your  guns !  and  make 
them  feel  your  mettle.  A  second  reason  was  that  it  had 
cost  much  to  come  away  home  from  the  Pacific,  and  much 
more  to  bring  the  mother,  sister,  self  and  belongings  from 
the  Eastern  seaboard  to  the  Western  town.  To  move 
again  meant  more  money,  and  he  hadn't  a  dollar  to  spare. 
The  third  reason,  briefly  stated,  was — Ethel  Hoyt.  For 
six  days  he  had  had  no  sight  of,  and  for  two  weeks  no 
speech  with,  her.  Jane  had  heard  she  was  not  well — 
had  had  disturbing  news  from  relatives,  and  Jane  was  set 
against  intruding  in  any  way.  Miss  Hoyt  had  not  en 
couraged  Miss  Fane's  by  no  means  too  cordial  advances, 
and  Jane  went  nowhere,  she  said,  where  she  was  not 
heartily  welcome.  She  spoke,  perhaps,  in  a  moment  of 
sisterly  spleen  and  petulance,  having  one  of  those  nerve- 
racking  torments  best  known  as  a  schoolroom  headache. 
She  had  begun  to  tell  herself  that  Ronald  had  come  to 

188 


"STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS!"  189 

this  place,  where  he  was  so  utterly  underrated  and  mis 
understood,  and  where  they  were  all  so  thoroughly  un 
happy,  on  account  and  in  pursuit  of  that  girl ;  which  was 
not  at  all  the  case,  as  she  could  have  learned  for  the  ask 
ing,  but  she  would  not  ask.  Womanlike,  Jane  would 
rather  cherish  a  poignant  and  jealous  pang  than  yield  a 
point.  She  saw  that  her  brother  was  chafing  his  heart 
out  over  the  situation — losing  sleep,  flesh  and  peace  of 
mind,  and  she  wanted  to  believe  that  it  was  all  because  of 
Miss  Hoyt,  instead  of  mainly  due  to  herself.  Many  a 
fond-hearted  sister  has  been  just  as  fool-headed ! 

But,  exasperating  as  was  the  situation  when  the  Presi 
dent,  after  hearing  young  Stetson's  side  of  the  story  and 
that  of  his  street-bred  supporters,  dismissed  the  affair  as 
"  something  Mr.  Fane  must  expect  in  a  community  where 
rum  is  master,"  there  was  really  worse  to  come.  What 
the  President  meant  to  imply  was  that  the  saloon  was 
responsible  for  the  occurrence,  that  he  could  not  control 
the  saloon,  and  that  the  Trustees  and  the  municipal  au 
thorities,  and  not  he,  should  take  cognizance  of  the  matter. 
What  he  succeeded  in  effecting  was  another  victory  for 
the  cad  element,  largely  in  the  minority  among  the  stu 
dents  but  nevertheless  there,  and  the  decision  speedily  bore 
its  fruit. 

On  the  one  hand,  the  Stetson-led  faction,  less  than 
seven  in  number  all  told,  was  now  encouraged  to  think 
that  "  Prex  "  was  their  backer,  and  they  planned  further 
mischief  accordingly.  On  the  other,  it  was  represented  to 


100  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

Fane  that,  finding  him  intractable,  the  President  had  taken 
this  means  of  driving  him  out  in  disgust.  Whatever  the 
motive,  the  deed  had  the  very  opposite  result.  Fane  set 
his  teeth  and  swore  he'd  stick  it  through  and  teach  his 
opponents  to  respect  his  department  and  teach  them  in 
spite  of  themselves.  His  mother's  lamentations  gave  him 
much  distress  of  mind.  She  took  so  much  to  heart  the 
slurs  and  innuendoes  that  frequently  appeared  in  two  of 
the  papers.  She  could  not  understand  it  that  so  very  few 
of  the  ladies,  either  of  Town  or  Gown,  had  called.  She 
thought  it  scandalous  that  only  two  professors  had  shown 
that  attention  to  her  son.  Handsome  Clare  was  not 
worrying  so  much  just  now,  she  having  found  an  ardent 
admirer  in  the  young  rector  of  St.  Paul's.  It  lifted  her 
at  once  from  the  contemplation  of  her  own  woes  to  the 
suffering  of  a  dozen  other  dear  lambs  of  the  fold,  deeply 
interested  in  the  daily  doings  of  that  most  attractive  divine. 
Jane,  apparently  absorbed  in  her  new  and  trying  duties, 
was  thinking  of  and  for  Ronald  more  than  he  knew,  but 
saying  little  because  of  a  cloud  that  had  come  between 
them.  She  did  not  wish  to  talk  of  Miss  Hoyt.  He,  evi 
dently,  had  too  much  interest  in  the  subject.  Six  months 
earlier  she  would  have  scorned  the  imputation  of  spying 
on  a  girl  in  hopes  of  evidence  in  support  of  her  sus 
picions.  For  six  days  past  she  had  been  giving  ear  to 
stories  that  Miss  Hoyt  was  "  interested  in  some  gentle 
man,"  and  that  gentleman  was  not  the  brother  Jane  so 
deeply  and  jealously  loved. 


"STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS!"  191 

Other  teachers  dwelling  in  Clifton  Hall  had  seen  letters 
that  came  for  Miss  Hoyt,  addressed  in  sprawling  mascu 
line  hand,  and  they  were  coming  as  often  as  twice  a  week. 
Younger  women — students  there  resident  and  admirers  of 
Miss  Hoyt's  decided  beauty,  grace  and  style — were  for 
ever  chatting  about  her,  and  speculating  as  to  the  cause 
of  her  coming  to  so  ill-paid,  ill-starred  a  lot  as  that  of  a 
teacher.  Previous  letters  for  Miss  Hoyt  had  been  re 
ceived;  some  in  business-looking  envelopes  from  a  law 
firm  in  the  East,  others  addressed  in  feminine  hand,  a  few, 
in  black-bordered  envelopes,  that  bore  the  post-mark  of 
Eastern  cities  and  pleasure  resorts.  It  was  late  in  October 
that  the  frequent  appearance  of  others  still  began  to  be 
noticed.  All  mail  for  Clifton  Hall  came  to  the  matron's 
office  and  was  there  distributed.  None  of  its  inmates  was 
supposed  to  have  a  box  of  her  own  at  the  post-office. 
There  were  reasons  for  this,  and  rather  good  ones. 

But  this  was  not  all.  Miss  Fane  walked  over  to  the 
Hall  one  evening  to  see  a  pupil  who  had  been  ill.  It  was 
late  when  she  went.  It  was  after  ten  and  closing 
time  when  she  left,  and  at  10:15,  turning  suddenly  into 
the  dark  and  arborlike  pathway — a  short  cut  from  the 
main  avenue  to  the  side  street — she  came  upon  a  couple 
faintly  discernible  under  a  massive  elm — a  young  man 
pleading;  a  young  woman  in  tears.  Neither  seeing  nor 
hearing  distinctly,  Miss  Fane  hurried  by,  a  strange  flutter 
at  her  heart.  Something  in  the  poise  of  the  slender, 
graceful  figure  so  dimly  visible,  something  in  a  mere  turn 


192  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

of  the  head  and  the  murmur  of  a  word  or  two,  told  her 
that  the  girl  was  Ethel  Hoyt. 

A  rule  of  the  Hall  was  that  the  main  door  should  be 
closed  at  ten,  and  that  the  door-keeper  should  furnish  the 
matron  with  the  names  of  all  admitted  after  that  hour. 
The  list  was  placed  on  the  matron's  desk.  Anyone  having 
business  with  the  matron  might  casually  glance  at  -it. 
Miss  Fane  had  no  particular  business  with  the  matron 
next  day,  the  Hall  was  rather  out  of  her  way,  but  she 
called  again  to  see  her  pupil,  who  was  up  and  out.  She 
called  again  upon  the  matron,  who  was  in,  and  the  list 
lay  before  her  on  the  desk.  "Miss  Hoyt,  10:25  p.  m." 
was  one  of  the  three  entries. 

The  meeting  of  the  Faculty  was  to  occur  on  Friday 
afternoon.  The  case  of  Stetson,  postponed  on  one  plea  or 
another,  was  then  to  be  decided.  The  father  had  been  out 
of  town  for  several  days,  and  no  one  knew  what  might  be 
plotting  until,  on  Friday  morning,  Fane  came  down  to 
his  early  breakfast  and  found  a  local  paper  underneath 
his  plate.  Three  or  four  students  at  table  in  the  adjoining 
room  respectfully  bade  him  good-morning  and  he  had  a 
cheery  word  with  them  before  taking  his  seat.  The  page 
was  so  folded  that  uppermost  lay,  heavily  marked,  an 
article  that  read  as  follows: 

THE  STUDENT  VS.  THE  SWORD 

It  is  understood  that  when  the  Faculty  of  the  State  College 
assembles  this  afternoon  formal  action  will  be  taken  on  the 


"STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS!"  193 

case  of  the  army  lieutenant  who  made  the  vicious  assault  upon 
certain  students  and  inoffensive  citizens  during  the  week  gone 
by.  While,  as  hitherto  stated,  we  think  that  the  charge  should 
be  assault  with  deadly  weapon,  and  that  it  was  a  matter  demand 
ing  the  action  of  the  Courts,  it  is  characteristic  of  the  mag 
nanimity  of  the'  persons  most  concerned  that  they  refuse  to 
prosecute  an  officer  whose  infirmities  of  temper  may  possibly 
be  aggravated  by  certain  injuries  from  which  he  is  said  to  be 
suffering.  It  appears,  however,  that  sympathy  is  somewhat 
misplaced  in  the  matter,  as  it  is  an  open  secret  that  this  is 
by  no  means  the  first  time,  both  at  college  and  on  campaign, 
that  the  conduct,  or  rather  misconduct,  of  the  officer  in  question 
has  been  the  subject  of  deserved  criticism.  We  have  it  on  indis 
putable  authority  that  this  is  the  lieutenant  whose  incapacity, 
if  nothing  worse,  resulted  in  heavy  loss  to  a  detachment  under 
his  command,  and  to  a  scathing  rebuke  from  his  superior  officer. 
Why  were  not  these  things  told  before? 

Fane  read ;  rose  slowly  from  his  chair ;  thrust  the  paper 
into  the  open  grate,  and  turned  back  to  his  waiting  break 
fast.  Many  eyes  were  upon  him.  He  had  reddened  a 
moment  and  then  gone  pale.  With  enforced  calm  and 
simulated  appetite  he  remained  a  while  at  the  little  table 
reserved  for  him  and  his.  Jane  had  not  yet  appeared. 
Mrs.  Fane  and  Clare  never  came  until  all  other  boarders 
were  gone.  When,  sword  at  his  side,  he  presently  left 
the  house,  he  found  two  students  waiting  for  him  at  the 
gate. 

They  saluted,  and  the  spokesman  said : 

"  Captain  Fane,  we  wish  to  say  to  you  that  no  member 
of  the  battalion  put  that  paper  at  your  plate.  We  believe 


,194  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

a  servant  did  it,  and  that  she  had  no  idea  of  the  contents, 
but  that  it  was  given  to  her  for  the  purpose.  Of  course 
we  have  seen  it,  and  the  men  whom  we've  met  unite  in 
denouncing  it.  The  whole  thing  is  the  work,  probably,  of 
old  Stetson." 

"  When  did  he  return  ?  "  asked  Fane.  He  did  not  wish 
to  discuss  the  matter.  He  desired  to  be  alone,  but  the 
loyalty  of  these  young  fellows  was  not  a  thing  to  be 
ignored.  He  thanked  them,  told  them  it  was  a  matter 
he  would  think  of  before  acting,  then  led  the  way  to  the 
gymnasium.  A  janitor,  meeting  them  at  the  gateway  to 
the  grounds,  handed  him  a  letter : 

"  It  came  with  the  President's  mail,  sir,  a  few 
days  ago,  and  he  was  away,  so  he  didn't  see  it  until 
last  night." 

It  was  from  Hazlett.  Fane  knew  the  hand  at  a  glance 
and  tore  open  the  envelope  as  he  trudged  up  the  hill. 
Within  was  a  little  missive  from  his  gentle  friend  and 
nurse  of  the  previous  winter.  How  long  ago  it  seemed ! 
How  much  older  he  had  grown,  and  sadder !  How  much 
he  stood  now  in  need  of  such  friends  as  these  and  how 
few  were  they!  Yet  the  first  words  gave  him  comfort: 

We  are  coming  to  Chicago,  dear  Fane.  Price  wrote  that 
his  wife  couldn't  stand  the  climate,  and  asked  to  exchange. 
Her  Serene  Highness  said  yes,  which  settled  it  even  up  to  the 
A.  G.  O.  So  behold  us  packing  in  preparation  for  the  journey. 
Now  there  is  possibility  of  our  meeting  in  the  near  future,  and 
it  occurred  to  me  that,  before  settling  in  winter  quarters  in 


"STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS!"  195 

the  Windy  City,  we  might  come,  by  way  of,  and  Mrs.  Kazlett 
might  bide  a  while  at,  Groveton.  It  is  as  you  say.  Send  a  night 
message,  for  we  should  be  leaving  here  Thursday  next. 

"  And  here  it  is  Friday,"  thought  Fane,  "  and  they've 
been  wondering  over  my  silence." 

I  suppose  you  hear  occasionally  from  Turner  and  Truscott, 
and  so  have  all  the  regimental  news.  Our  fellows  are  all  out 
of  Arizona  by  this  time,  and  yours  will  be  following  in  another 
year.  Mrs.  Stannard's  last  letter  to  my  better  half  was  full 
of  interest,  but  we'll  talk  over  all  that  when  we  meet.  Just 
what  influence  our  former  post  commander  may  possess  is 
more  than  I  can  say.  It  saved  him  an  official  lashing  last 
spring,  and  now  he  has  six  months'  leave.  I  presume  he  will 
appear  in  Chicago,  perhaps  is  there  already,  in  which  case  I 
hope  he  may  go  his  way  before  I  get  there.  Now,  forgive  me, 
Fane,  if  I  intrude  advice  where  none  is  asked,  but,  knowing 
how  just  was  your  wrath  against  him, — knowing,  too,  just  how 
deep, — I  hope  you  will  not  meet  him.  Your  good  name  and 
fame,  in  spite  of  him,  are  established, — known  of  all  men. 

"  How  little  he  knows,"  thought  Fane  bitterly. 

He  stands  rebuked  in  like  measure.  Therefore,  say  I,  don't 
seek  him, — don't  see  him.  In  an  affair  with  him  of  any  kind  you 
would  have  nothing  to  gain  and  everything,  perhaps,  to  lose.  We 
have  learned  to  love  you  and  to  have  high  hopes  of  your  future 
in  the  profession  you  adorn,  so  do  nothing  to  jeopard  your 
prospects. 

I  am  wondering  if  you  have  heard  about  Hayden,  whom  you 
dared  so  much  to  save.  I  wonder  if  he  was  worth  half  the 


196  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

risk.  I  had  a  letter  from  Turner  two  days  ago.  The  men,  he 
says,  "  still  talk  of  Fane,"  but  don't  know  what  to  think  of 
Hayden.  He  had  been  sent  down  to  the  Colorado  on  escort 
duty  last  month ;  got  into  a  row  with  a  man  in  "  K "  Troop ; 
was  placed  under  guard;  broke  out,  escaped,  and  has  been 
declared  a  deserter.  They  say  he  took  the  mail  stage  to  the 
coast.  Where  could  he  have  got  the  money?  Frankly,  I  never 
thought  much  of  that  young  fellow,  though  I  remember  that 
the  major  seemed  to  favor  him. 
Mrs.  Hazlett  sends  the  enclosed,  so  I  presume  she  conveys 

her  own  messages. 

Yours  as  ever,  HAZLETT. 

So  Major  Piggott  was  East  on  leave,  and  Hayden  a 
deserter.  How  odd  to  read  of  them  and  their  doings! 
A  few  months  back  Fane  could  hardly  drive  the  former 
out  of  his  thoughts.  For  the  last  few  weeks  he  had  hardly 
thought  of  him  at  all,  so  engrossing  had  become  his  cares 
and  perplexities  at  college.  He  was  standing  alone  now, 
reading  his  letter  under  the  shade  of  the  elms  at  the  edge 
of  the  green  campus.  The  students  had  gone  on  to  the 
gymnasium;  others  were  following;  all  eyeing  him  curi 
ously,  many  of  them  sympathetically,  as  they  passed,  for 
all  had  seen  or  heard  of  that  stinging  and  misleading 
article.  Mechanically  he  returned  their  salutes,  but  turned 
farther  away  into  the  grove  before  opening  the  little 
enclosure.  It  was  only  a  wee  note,  but  it  stirred  him 
strangely,  even  at  a  time  when  he  was  athrill  with  nervous 
wrath  over  the  new  wrong  dealt  him.  For  a  moment 
this,  too,  was  forgotten  as  he  read ; 


"STAND    TO   YOUR    GUNS!"  197 

DEAR  FRIEND— ALWAYS  : 

We  have  been  seeing  much  of  Mr.  Furlong  who  was  with  you 
at  the  Point  two  summers  ago,  and  he  has  had  much  to  tell 
us  of  a  girl  in  whom  I  feel  more  interest  than  you  express. 
He  says  that  it  is  generally  believed  that  her  father's  business 
misfortunes  were  mainly  due  to  a  Mr.  Betts;  that  Mr.  Betts 
had  pursued  her  with  his  attentions  in  spite  of  her  repugnance, 
and  that  her  quitting  her  father's  roof— such  roof  as  was  left 
to  them  after  the  crash— was  practically  to  rid  herself  of  Betts 
and  his  importunities.  He  says  further  that  she  is  teaching 
French  at  some  Western  college,  and  he  thinks  it  the  very  one 
to  which  you  were  lately  ordered.  I  can  hardly  believe  it, 
because  you  surely  would  tell  me,  would  you  not?  Yet  you 
have  written  no  line  since  the  week  you  went  on  duty.  I  do 
hope— well,  you  know  what  I  hoped,  and  said,  when  we  parted 
at  Sandy,  and  now  I'm  looking  forward  to  be  told  of  her,  per 
haps  to  seeing  her  at  Groveton.  Shall  I  not? 

Yours,  E.  E.  H. 


What  was  there  to  tell  her?  What  opportunity  would 
there  now  be,  even  had  he  anything  but  sorrow  to  speak 
of!  The  ill  fortune  that  had  seemed  to  hound  his  every 
move  of  late  pursued  him  even  in  this.  It  was  now  too 
late  to  wire.  They  would  have  started,  and  he  knew  not 
by  which  route  or  train.  They  would  hardly  come  by  way 
of  Groveton  now,  in  view  of  his  silence,  and  he  longed  for 
them,  longed  for  Hazlett's  stanch  friendship  and  sup 
port — for  her  sweet,  womanly  sympathy.  The  big  bell 
boomed  the  hour ;  the  stirring  peal  of  the  bugle  followed 
at  the  gymnasium ;  he  heard  the  "  Here !  "  "  Here !  "  of 


198  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

the  young  voices  and  the  thud  of  the  gun  butts  on  the  floor 
as  the  sergeants  called  their  rolls.  One  or  two  belated 
lads  came  panting  up  the  slope,  red-faced  and  worried, 
"  coming  down  to  a  walk  "  at  sight  of  him,  saluting  and 
then  hastening  on,  but  he  called  them  to  him.  Sorrow 
and  vexation  had  only  served  to  make  him  sympathetic. 
"  We'll  go  in  together,"  he  said,  half  smiling.  "  Car  off 
the  track?" 

They  shook  their  heads.  "My  fault,  sir,  I'm  'fraid," 
said  the  foremost.  "  I  thought  we  had  more  time, 
and—  "  he  glanced  down  at  the  left  hand.  The  knuckle 
was  bleeding.  "  We  turned  back  a  minute." 

"  Some  of  that  street  gang  again  ?  "  queried  Fane. 

'  Three  of  'em,  sir,  at  the  second  corner.  I  don't  care 
to  say  what  they  said,  but — I  laid  one  of  'em  out." 

"  I  think  I  know,"  said  Fane  grimly.  "  Don't  fight  my 
battles,  gentlemen.  I'll  settle  those  presently,"  then 
turned  on  toward  the  gymnasium. 

At  the  doorway  Fane  encountered  a  heavy  body  loung 
ing  out.  It  was  Stetson,  furious,  followed  by  a  student 
officer,  menacing.  Something  had  evidently  happened 
to  ruffle  the  former,  for  he  wheeled,  shook  his  fist  at  his 
pursuer,  and,  never  seeming  to  see  others,  burst  out  with 
this  tirade : 

''And  that  ain't  half  we've  got  to  say  of  that  

—  shoulder-strapped  son-of-a "  Gulp!  for  he  got 

no  further.     He  was  seized  from  behind,  whirled  about 
and  brought  face  to  face  with  Fane.     For  a  moment  no 


"STAND    TO    YOUR    GUNS!"  199 

one  spoke.  Alone  now  in  his  abuse,  abashed  and  scared, 
the  young  ruffian  checked  in  the  midst  of  his  raging 
harangue.  This  time,  at  least,  it  was  not  the  officer's 
hand  that  was  laid  upon  him,  but  the  officer  was  the  first 
to  speak,  and  he  spoke  slowly,  with  a  snap  to  every  word, 
with  a  face  that  was  white  to  the  very  lips. 

"  You  have  heard  this  language,  gentlemen/'  he  said, 
quite  calmly,  "  and  you  know  to  what  and  to  whom  he 
refers.  Either  he  quits,  or  I  quit,  this  college  before  an 
other  day." 


CHAPTER  VI 

STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT 

FACULTY  meeting  was  over,  and  the  fate  of  Stet 
son  as  a  student  was  settled.  It  had  been  long  and 
hot  and  trying.  The  talk  was  mainly  with  the 
President,  with  the  usual  talkers  of  the  array,  and  with 
Beerbohm  especially,  but,  after  the  testimony  of  the  four 
student  witnesses  to  the  morning's  affair,  the  vote  was 
even  overwhelmingly  with  Fane.  Stetson  was  "  removed 
from  the  rolls  "  and  declared  no  longer  a  member  of  the 
college.  "  You  may  expect  trouble,  and  lots  of  it,  as  the 
result  of  this  action,"  said  the  President,  and  he  was 
prophetic,  though  he  never  dreamed  of  the  nature  of  the 
consequences  to  come.  He  went  hurriedly  away  from 
the  meeting  without  a  word  to  Fane. 

Three  elders  of  the  Faculty  walked  homeward  with  the 
young  officer  in  the  gathering  dusk.  He  was  silent,  tired, 
worn.  He  had  won,  but  he  felt  no  sense  of  exultation. 
The  battle  was  only  just  begun.  They  left  him,  and  Jane, 
with  anxious  eyes,  met  him  at  the  gate.  He  passed  his 
arm  around  her  waist  and  drew  her  to  his  side  as  they 
turned  into  the  house.  "  Mamma,"  said  she,  "  has  a  head 
ache  and  is  lying  down.  Clare  is  out  walking  with  her 
Honeyman."  Jane  adored  Thackeray  and  couldn't  abide 
the  rector.  "  Now  tell  me  how  it  went." 

200 


STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT      201 

"  It  went — hard/'  he  said,  "but,  it  went!  The  fellow- 
is  dismissed,  but  the  President  says  his  people  will  appeal 
to  the  Trustees,  who  are  mainly  politicians,  who  will 
undo  what  we  have  done  and  leave  us  worse  off  than  we 
were.  I  fancy  he  knows  them.  Now,  if  Colonel  West 
were  only  here !  " 

If  Colonel  West  were  only  here !  Jane  was  reddening 
faintly  at  the  thought.  If  Colonel  West  were  only  here — 
and  knew  all  that  had  transpired,  knew  of  her  going 
again  to  the  matron  and  spying — yes,  spying  on  Miss 
Hoyt,  what  would  Colonel  West  be  apt  to  think — what 
ever  he  might  not  say !  Conscience  was  troubling  Jane — 
conscience  and  other  matters.  The  brother  was  not  the 
only  one  of  the  dear  name  they  bore  to  have  his  college 
troubles.  That  spiteful  paper  had  been  seen  by  bright 
and  eager  eyes  at  the  Hall,  and  there  had  been  more  than 
one  spiteful  little  scratch  inflicted  during  the  day,  spiteful 
in  spite  of  the  simulated  sympathy.  But  what  would 
Roland  think  and  say  and  do  if  he  knew  she  had  gone  to 
the  matron  that  second  time  and  peered  over  the  matron's 
shoulder  at  the  matron's  list.  Jane  had  very  virtuous 
intentions  as  regarded  Ethel  Hoyt  and  meant  not  to  mis 
judge  her  in  any  way,  but,  the  girl  who  won  her  Bayard 
brother,  her  hero,  her  medal-of-honor  soldier,  must  be  a 
paragon  in  petticoats,  and  Jane  had  something  of  Punch's 
famous  Scotchwoman's  faith  in  the  frailty  of  all  woman 
kind — except  herself. 

She  knew  he  wished  to  be  alone,  but  she  decided  it  were 


202  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

best  he  should  open  his  heart — and  to  her.  "  Come,  let 
us  walk  it  off,  Ronald,"  she  said.  "  We  will  trot  down 
to  the  post  before  tea.  It  will  do  you  good,  and  I — 
need  it." 

There  was  a  dispatch  on  the  mantelshelf  in  Mrs. 
Jamieson's  little  parlor.  She  ran  and  fetched  it,  and  her 
hat,  and  watched  him  narrowly  as  he  opened  and  read. 

"  My  luck,"  he  said  wearily,  as  he  crumpled  the  paper. 
"  The  Hazletts  were  coming  this  way.  They've  gone 
straight  on  to  Chicago  as  no  answer  came  to  their  letter, 
so  I'll  wire  from  town  and  explain." 

Together  they  started.  The  late  November  evening  was 
chill;  the  lanes  were  dark;  the  street  lamps,  just  being 
lighted,  threw  but  a  feeble  gleam  across  the  broader  ave 
nue,  and  a  wind  from  nowhere  in  particular  was  sighing 
through  the  branches  overhead  and  sifting  the  brown 
leaves  down  across  their  pathway.  It  was  a  Friday  even 
ing,  too;  ill-omened  day  in  many  a  history  and  destined 
so  to  be  in  theirs.  They  walked  for  a  while  swiftly,  but  in 
silence.  He  said  he  would  rather  not  talk  just  now.  They 
passed  at  intervals  little  knots  of  students  and  towns 
people  hurrying  supperwards,  silent  almost  as  were  they 
themselves.  They  met  Clare  and  her  clerical  cavalier, 
who  impressively  lifted  his  hat  and  trusted  their  spirits 
were  brighter  than  the  day,  to  which  neither  could  make 
fitting  response.  They  went  on  presently,  after  a  per 
functory  word.  "  I've  asked  Mr.  Tremaine  to  tea  with 
us,"  Clare  called  over  her  shoulder,  "  so  don't  be  late." 


STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT       203 

"  This  evening  of  all  others,"  moaned  Jane,  as  she  took 
her  brother's  arm  and  snuggled  to  his  side ;  then,  as  they 
encountered  other  couples — "  co-eds  "  out  for  a  "  spoon  " 
and  a  stroll — suddenly  dropped  it  and  ran  round  behind 
him  to  the  other  side.  "  How  thoughtless  of  me,"  she 
added.  "  I  should  be  here  to  keep  people  from  brushing 
against  you,"  and  lightly  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the 
injured  limb,  still  supported  in  its  fastened  sleeve.  It 
had  so  happened  that  once  or  twice  he  had  been  jostled, 
and  the  instant  pang  that  followed  made  him  sick  and 
faint.  They  passed  a  few  members  of  the  Faculty,  some 
going  townward  for  exercise,  some  merely  crossing  their 
path.  Professor  Beerbohm,  moving  slowly,  in  earnest 
talk  with  a  stranger,  did  not  see  them.  Something  in  the 
walk  and  carriage  of  that  stranger  was  strangely  familiar 
to  Fane,  but  the  nearest  lamp  post  was  forty  yards  away, 
the  light  was  dim,  and  the  two  men  turned  into  a  cross 
street  leading  to  the  President's  almost  as  brother  and 
sister  overtook  them.  The  stranger  was  then  gesticulat 
ing,  but  the  wind  and  the  swirling,  flitting  leaves  drowned 
all  sound  of  his  voice.  Yet  Fane  shortened  step  and 
looked  after  them  down  the  cross  street,  and  Jane  asked 
why.  He  didn't  know.  He  thought  it  looked  like  some 
body  he  knew. 

"  Stetson  ?  "  she  asked  instantly. 

"  Stetson,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Stetson,  the  elder ; 
but — what  should  Professor  Beerbohm  be  doing  with 
Stetson?" 


204  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

They  found  nothing  at  the  post.  They  went  on  to  the 
Western  Union  office,  where  he  wrote  a  message  to  Haz- 
lett,  Palmer  House,  Chicago ;  and,  as  they  came  forth,  the 
clock  in  the  city  hall  struck  six.  The  streets  were  rather 
dull  for  that  usually  lively  hour.  Few  people  at  the  mo 
ment  were  abroad.  Many  of  those  they  passed  gazed 
curiously  at  them,  but  there  was  nothing  new  in  that. 
The  uniform  seemed  always  to  attract  attention,  and  this 
evening,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  Fane  had  not 
changed  it  for  civilian  dress  before  coming  into  town. 
They  passed  the  brilliantly  lighted  counting  room  of  the 
Evening  Star,  and  newsboys  were  running  out  with  fresh 
supplies,  their  voices  shrilling  on  the  gusty  air.  They 
passed  another  brightly  lighted  portal,  as  they  turned 
again  into  College  Avenue, — a  popular  resort  and  bar 
whose  swinging  doors  parted  violently  at  the  instant,  and 
three  or  four  loud-voiced  citizens  burst  forth.  Promi 
nent  among  them,  loudest  in  voice,  dress  and  manner, 
flushed  in  face  and  brandishing  a  crushed  copy  of  the 
paper  in  his  fist,  was  Stetson— Stetson,  the  senior,  whom 
they  believed  they  had  seen  half  a  mile  up  the  avenue  not 
half  an  hour  agone.  It  was  possible,  of  course,  for  him 
to  have  followed  closely  after  them  and  got  there  before 
now,  but  they  remembered  hearing  the  same  voices  when, 
ten  minutes  earlier,  they  walked  briskly  by  the  same  por 
tals.  Stetson  gave  no  sign  of  being  drunk  when  he 
walked  with  Beerbohm.  He  gave  many  a  sign  of  it  as  he 
lurched  forth  now.  He  was  shouting  and  they  heard: 


STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT      205 

"  I  stand  by  what  my  boy  called  him,  by  God !  I  say 

he's  a  ,  white-livered  sneak  and  coward,  an' 

I'll  hound  him  for  this  till  he "  But  here  some  one  of 

the  party  had  sense  enough  to  clap  a  broad  palm  over  the 
gaping  mouth  and  to  point  with  the  other  hand  to  the  pair 
moving  swiftly  by,  the  girl  hanging  tight  to  the  young 
officer's  sleeve.  "  Shut  up,  you  fool !  "  they  heard  some 
one  mutter,  the  words  audible  over  the  sound  of  shuffling 
feet.  Fane  would  have  turned  again,  but  his  sister  clung 
to  him  and  pleaded.  So,  silently  they  went  on. 

"  We'll  be  late  as  it  is,"  she  murmured  presently,  still 
snuggling  to  his  side.  "  We  ought  to  hurry."  But  hurry 
homeward  he  would  not.  The  idea  of  sitting  at  tea  now, 
with  the  buzz  of  cheery  student  talk  from  the  adjoining 
room,  the  presence  of  the  man  of  peace  and  Godliness, 
when  his  soul  was  filled  with  rage  for  battle,  was  simply 
unbearable.  She  saw  it,  and  led  him  on  and  on,  up  the 
avenue  to  the  very  foot  of  the  stubborn  hill,  and  he  was 
for  breasting  that,  but  she  glanced  at  the  brilliant  lights 
at  Clifton  Hall,  and  turned  him  westward  into  the  grove, 
and  so  on  over  to  the  plashing  lake  and  round  by  Cedar 
Point,  and  finally,  back  by  the  winding  pathway  through 
the  trees,  toward  the  avenue  again,  where  the  gas  lamps 
gleamed  mistily  and  threw  a  feeble  glow  at  intervals  upon 
the  broad  walk,  and  there,  just  as  they  stepped  forth  upon 
the  planking,  which  creaked  and  grumbled  under  their 
springy  tread, — just  within  the  fringing  line  of  elms  be 
yond  the  next  lamp  post  and  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  little 


206  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

circle  of  light, — there  stood  two  shadowy  forms,  those  of 
a  man  and  a  woman.  As  the  soldier  came  within  the 
circle  the  flame  of  the  jet  shone  full  on  the  gold-crossed 
sabres  and  the  cord  of  the  natty  kepi,  and  glistened  on 
button  and  shoulder-strap.  Partially,  too,  it  blinded  the 
eyes  beneath  that  stiff  leather  visor,  so  that  only  faintly 
could  they  follow  what  instantly  happened. 

All  in  that  instant  the  shadowy  head  of  the  man  was 
uplifted,  then  with  sudden  rush  and  scurry  the  form 
darted  from  sight  among  the  trees.  Another  instant  and 
brother  and  sister  had  passed  the  lamp  post  and  were 
within  plain  view  of  the  white,  startled,  yet  lovely  face 
that  turned  in  distress  and  terror  upon  them — the  face 
of  Ethel  Hoyt. 

Fane's  hand  went  up  to  his  cap.  Impatiently  he  shook 
off  the  restraining  touch :  impulsively  he  stepped  forward, 
never  heeding,  never  hearing,  possibly,  his  sister's  half 
imploring  murmur,  "  Oh,  Ronald !  Don't — don't  speak ! 
Come  with  me ! "  He  had  but  one  thought,  one  idea — 
Stetson's  mad  threat  had  been  put  into  execution.  Stet 
son,  or  someone  for  Stetson,  had  dared  to  accost,  to  insult 
her,  and  seeing  him  coming  had  suddenly  fled.  "  What 
was  it? — Who  was  it,  Miss  Ethel?  "  he  cried,  as  he  sprang 
'  to  her  side.  "  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  Tell  me,  quick !  " 
and  his  eyes  blazed  furiously  as  he  glared  about  him. 
But  her  answer  confused,  confounded,  amazed  him. 

"Oh,  no!  No!  It  isn't— it  wasn't—  Indeed  he 
meant — he  did  no  harm!  Oh,  pray,  don't  think  of  it. 


STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT      207. 

Good-night,  Mr.  Fane— Miss  Fane."  And  before  he 
could  regain  his  scattered  senses  she  was  hurrying  far  up 
the  walk  toward  the  lights  of  the  Hall.  Fane  would  have 
turned  and  followed,  but  his  sister,  held  fast.  "  Come 
with  me,"  she  pleaded,  "  and  I'll— I'll  have  to  tell  you !  " 

And  going  with  her,  he  listened,  stunned  and  silent,  to 
the  sister's  story.  It  was  no  uncouth  ruffian,  then.  It  was 
some  unknown  admirer,  some  unsuspected  lover.  And 
they  had  met  at  later  hours !  They  had  met  before !  And 
he  and  she,  or  both,  were  ashamed,  else  why  should  the 
man  take  to  his  heels  ? 

Roland  Fane  did  not  go  to  tea  that  evening,  as  was  well 
remembered  with  the  following  day.  Jane  herself  was 
very  late,  and  explained  that  Ronald  had  some  business  to 
attend  to.  Tremaine  tore  himself  away  for  vestry  meet 
ing  at  eight,  and  about  nine  Ronald  came  in,  went  to  his 
mother's  room,  and  presently  to  his  own,  whither  Jane  had 
smuggled  a  tempting  little  luncheon  for  him,  and  whither 
she,  too,  followed,  saying,  "  I'll  have  some  tea  for  you  in 
two  minutes."  She  found  him  looking  curiously  at  a 
letter  that  lay  conspicuously  on  his  desk.  "  That  was 
brought  to  the  house  by  a  messenger  about  eight,"  she 
said.  "  Is  it — anything  of  importance  ?  " 

He  had  not  yet  read.  He  was  dazed,  sore  hurt  and 
troubled,  and  she  had  done  it.  She,  the  sister  who  so 
devotedly  loved  him,  had  taught  him  distrust,  even  dis 
honor,  of  the  girl  who  must  have  held  foremost  place  in 
his  heart,  and  how  could  her  Ronald  have  given  such  a 


208  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

love  to  one  unworthy !  Conscience  was  smiting  her  now. 
Like  many  another  woman,  she  had  been  all  impulse  to 
make  him  see  with  her  eyes  the  woman  he  loved,  until  at 
last  he  saw.  Then,  appalled  at  the  result,  she  began  to 
conjure  up  explanation — extenuation — she  would  not 
heed  before;  to  look  for  some  way — some  reason — to 
undo  what  she  had  done.  Self-tormented,  she  fled  from 
his  now  doubly  sorrowing  face.  Even  the  light  of  battle- 
longing  had  gone  from  it.  There  was  nothing  left  but 
suffering.  She  needed  to  collect  her  thoughts  and  was 
almost  glad  to  find  the  kitchen  fire  so  low  it  took  her  long 
ten  minutes  to  brew  the  tea  she  was  to  have  had  ready 
in  two. 

His  room  was  dark  and  he  was  gone  when  once  again 
she  entered,  struck  a  match  and  lit  the  gas.  The  luncheon 
stood  there  on  the  table,  still  untouched.  Vaguely 
troubled,  she  sat  down  the  tea  things  and  in  doing  so  dis 
placed  a  half-folded  half  sheet  that  fell  to  the  floor.  .  It 
lay  open  as  she  stooped  and  the  words  were  few,  but  plain 
and  significant : 

Look  out  for  your  guns  to-night.  If  you  don't  believe,  come 
through  the  west  grove  at  ten  o'clock  and  see  for  yourself. 

(Signed)  LOYAL. 

"  Look  out  for  the  guns !  "  she  repeated.  That  might 
mean  either  the  rifles  in  the  gun  racks  within,  or  the  two 
field  pieces  on  the  bluff  without,  the  gymnasium.  Tradi 
tion  had  it  that  once  before  these  had  been  dumped  into 


STRANGE    SHADOWS    BY    NIGHT       209 

the  lake.  "  Come  through  the  west  grove."  Naturally, 
if  the  object  was  to  surprise  the  malefactors  at  their  work 
and  catch  them  red-handed.  Naturally,  for  on  the  chance 
of  interruption  they  would  have  pickets  on  the  main  trav 
eled  paths,  but  would  hardly  expect  anyone  from  that 
other  direction  of  a  dark  night.  Evidently  Ronald  had 
gone  at  once, — that  was  to  be  expected — gone  alone,  prob 
ably,  for  whom  had  he  to  summon  to  his  aid  ?  Hurriedly 
she  returned  to  her  own  room,  which  by  day,  at  least,  com 
manded  a  better  view ;  raised  the  window ;  threw  open  the 
shutters,  and  then,  kneeling,  looked  out  upon  the  night. 
The  scud  was  driving  across  the  sky.  The  waning  moon 
was  still  low  in  the  east  and  obscured  by  cloud.  Only 
three  or  four  stars  were  struggling  for  a  peep  through 
the  driving  veil.  The  wind  was  moaning  low  among  the 
shrubbery  and  tossing  unseen  branches  overhead.  In  one 
continuous  plaint  and  plash  the  long  waves  rolled  aslant 
upon  the  pebbly  shore.  Far  across  the  troubled  waters  a 
locomotive  headlight  rounded  a  rocky  point  and  threw  its 
brilliant  beam  athwart  the  white-capped  surface.  It  was 
the  night  express  of  the  Central,  inward  bound.  Then  it 
must  be  later  than  she  thought.  Even  in  the  parlor  below, 
where  often  the  students  kept  the  piano  jangling  by  the 
hour,  there  was  silence  and  desolation.  Everybody  was 
away  now  at  this  moment  when  the  brave-hearted,  army- 
bred  girl  seemed  most  to  need  support  and  sympathy. 
The  very  night  wind,  blowing  from  the  sturdy  cedars  at 
the  Point,  seemed  to  whisper  of  foreboding,  of  impending 


210  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

danger,  and  Jane  could  stand  it  no  longer.  "  God  guard 
my  boy ! "  she  almost  wailed,  wringing  her  supple  hands. 
Then  suddenly  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

Borne  on  the  rising,  moaning  gale ;  borne  from  the  very 
heart  of  the  westward  grove  beyond  the  gymnasium,  there 
came  to  her  ears,  sharp  and  spiteful,  the  sound  of  a  single 
shot.  That  was  all.  That  was  more  than  enough.  Again 
she  hurried  down  to  Ronald's  room,  to  the  pine  wardrobe 
against  the  northward  wall,  and  threw  it  open.  The  belt 
that  always  hung  on  the  rearmost  peg, — the  belt  that  bore 
his  bolstered  pistol,  hung  there  still.  He  at  least  had  gone 
unarmed.  The  soldier  had  observed  the  civil  law,  pos 
sibly  to  his  own  peril,  for  peril  there  certainly  was. 

And  then,  slow  and  solemn,  booming  on  the  night,  the 
big  bell  in  the  central  tower  up  the  hill  began  the  stroke 
of  ten. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE     SHOT     FROM    THE    CEDARS 

I  DON'T  know  anything  about  that,"  the  President 
was  saying  an  hour  later,  a  very  exciting  hour  as  it 
chanced  to  be,  and  the  President  was  both  disturbed 
and  vexed.  "  A  pistol  is  not  a  proper  part  of  a  teacher's 
equipment,  and  no  man  is  warranted  in  using  one  except, 
possibly,  in  defense  of  his  life " 

"  And  must  he  wait  till  he's  dead  to  find  out  whether 
his  life's  in  danger?"  drawled  the  President's  other  bete 
noir,  the  Professor  of  Electrics.  "  If  I  had  been  in  the 
captain's  place  I  think  I  would  have  shot  sooner." 

"  You  couldn't  have  shot  at  all,"  said  the  President 
scathingly.  "  You  don't  carry  a  pistol, — don't  know  how 
to  use  one.  He  does,  it  seems,  and  he  shouldn't." 

"  No.  I  admit  that  according  to  academic  tradition 
and  the  laws  of  the  land  he  should  have  suffered  himself 
to  be  pounded  into  pulp, — a  one-armed  man,  alone  and 
helpless, — but  I'm  bound  to  say,  Mr.  President,  that  you 
seem  infinitely  more  concerned  about  the  possible  shoot 
ing  of  a  student  than  the  actual  and  brutal  and  precon 
certed  assault  upon  one  of  the  Faculty." 

Four  of  the  six  men  present  gasped  audibly  at  the 
effrontery  of  the  electrical  department  Never  before  the 

211 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

coming  of  Fane,  "  the  disturbing  element,"  into  the 
charmed  circle  of  college  life,  had  such  a  thing  been  heard 
of  among  the  Faculty.  Since  that  coming  not  only  Fane 
but  certain  followers  had  more  than  once  measured  lances 
with  the  President,  "  Electrics  "  among  them ;  but  never 
before  had  "  Electrics  "  said  his  say  with  such  shocking 
force  and  abruptness.  The  night  air  that  had  been  so 
chill  and  depressing  seemed  now  surcharged  with  surplus 
voltage.  The  President  stood  glaring  at  his  former  sub 
ordinate,  his  mouth  wide  open  as  his  eyes. 

"  You  speak  strongly,"  said  he  at  length. 

"  I  feel  strongly,"  said  Sharpe  in  reply.  "  I  was  one  of 
the  first  to  reach  the  spot.  I  heard  that  shot  from  the 
laboratory — heard  the  rush  through  the  grove.  Then 
there  were  shrieks  for  help.  I  saw  the  watchman's  lan 
tern  go  diving  among  the  trees,  and  I  got  there  as  quick 
as  I  could.  My  father,  Mr.  President,  came  home  in  '65 
wearing  that  uniform,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling.  I  had 
learned  to  honor  it,  and  here  I  saw  it  covered  with  blood 
and  dirt — and  a  crippled  soldier  beaten  senseless." 

'  The  beating  wasn't  so  one-sided,"  responded  the  Presi 
dent,  feeling  that  Sharpe  was  gaining  ground.  "  Young 
Stetson's  brought  home  with  a  broken  nose  that  we'll 
have  to  pay  for.  Your  helpless  victim  seems  to  have 
been  a  hard  hitter — probably  it  was  his  pistol  butt  that 
did  it." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so,"  was  the  uncompromising 
answer.  "  Of  all  the  cowardly,  blackguardly  things  I 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  CEDARS   213 

ever  heard  of,  this  is  about  the  worst.  His  sister  showed 
me  the  letter  by  which  they  lured  him,  telling  him  to  look 
out  for  his  guns.  Dr.  Raynor  says  they  must  have 
stamped  on  his  face  when  they  had  him  down,  and  the 
wound  in  the  shoulder,  of  course,  is  reopened.  The  doc 
tor  was  working  at  that  when  I  came  away.  It's  my  be 
lief  those  brutes  beat  him  down  from  behind — his  cap 
shows  it — probably  knocked  him  senseless." 

"  Senseless,  and  yet  able  to  shoot  and  scream  for  help !  " 
interjected  the  President  satirically. 

"  I — didn't  say  that,"  said  Sharpe,  reddening.  "  There 
were  screams  for  help,  but — not  his." 

"  Whose,  then  ?  "  demanded  the  gaunt  scholar  suspi 
ciously,  "  You  spoke  of  him  as  alone — helpless.  Did 
his  assailants  scream  for  help  ?  " 

"  I  said  he  was  alone  when  attacked.  He  was  not  alone 
when  I  got  there." 

"  Who  were  there  ?  "  was  the  sharp  demand. 

"  Several  people,"  answered  Sharpe  slowly.  "  Dug- 
gan,  the  watchman,  Post  and  Linkman  from  the  observa 
tory,  and  several  others,  strangers  or  students,  I  don't 
know  which.  I  was  busy  with  him." 

"  But  none  of  those  you  name  could  have  been  there  to 
scream.  You  said  shriek,  at  first.  Did  you  see  no  one 
else?  Professor  Sharpe,  I  will  ask  you  a  direct  question 
that  you  may  answer  or  not  as  you  see  fit.  Was  Miss 
Hoyt  there?" 

The  silence  in  the  old  library  for  a  second  or  two  was 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  the  big  Dutch  clock.  Then 
Sharpe  replied : 

"  Miss  Hoyt  was  there." 

"  And  can  you  reasonably  account  for  Miss  Hoyt's 
being  in  the  west  grove  at  that  hour  of  the  night  ?  " 

"  I  cannot.  It  is  not  my  business.  I  do  not  permit 
myself,  however,  to  doubt  that  she  can.  It  was  barely 
ten.  Clifton  Hall  is  close  at  hand.  She  is  not  confined 
to  it  that  I  know  of." 

But  the  President  signified  that  the  impromptu  council 
was  ended.  Sharpe  wished  to  stay  and  speak  further, 
but  the  President  would  not  so  have  it.  He  had  other 
matters  to  attend  to  at  once.  A  new  theory  had  pre 
sented  itself  to  his  mind,  based  on  rumors  that  had  reached 
his  ears.  From  more  sources  than  one  had  he  heard  of 
Miss  Hoyt's  recent  evening  wanderings,  and  of  that  early 
morning  meeting,  the  occasion  of  Fane's  first  unlawful 
"  laying  on  of  hands."  He  lost  sight  of  other  theories  in 
presence  of  this  new  and  forceful  one.  He  forgot  what 
Sharpe  told  him  of  the  luring  letter — the  threat  as  to  the 
guns.  He  sat  thinking  of  stories  of  anonymous  notes 
that  had  been  coming  from  mysterious  sources.  He  was 
contemplating  with  dismay  the  certainty  that  here  was  a 
new  scandal,  a  new  sensation  the  Press  would  surely  dis 
cover,  and  again  the  college  would  become  the  butt  of 
every  paper  opposed  politically  to  the  powers  in  office. 
It  was  pitiful.  It  was  exasperating.  Only  yesterday,  he 
reasoned,  they  had  most  inopportunely  dismissed  young 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  CEDARS   215 

Stetson  and  intensified  the  rage  against  them  in  Stetson, 
senior's,  breast.  Stetson,  who  "  steered  "  ward  caucuses 
and  State  conventions;  Stetson,  worse  luck,  who  prac 
tically  owned  the  Evening  Star;  Stetson,  whose  hopeful 
son  was  lying  this  moment  at  his  father's  house,  with  shat 
tered  nerve — and  nose ;  Stetson,  who  had  sworn  vengeance 
against  the  college  in  many  a  saloon  that  night  and  was 
supposed  to  be  somewhere  in  ambush  at  this  moment — 
doubtless  maturing  plans  for  college  annihilation.  At 
least  he  had  not  come  home,  and  it  was  nearly  twelve. 

Lights  were  burning  late  in  a  dozen  rooms  about  the 
college  buildings  that  eventful  night.  Sharpe  could  see 
them  as  he  hurried  away.  He  at  first  had  thought  to 
overtake  his  recent  associates  in  council  and  make  them 
listen  to  that  which  the  President  refused  to  hear.  He 
had  met  Miss  Hoyt  only  half  a  dozen  times,  but  his  wife 
had  met  her  often,  had  become  her  friend  and  frequent 
visitor. 

Sharpe  believed  in  the  girl  and  was  thoroughly 
vexed  that  he  had  had  to  speak  of  her  presence  at  the 
scene  of  what  promised  now  to  be  a  tragedy.  To  be 
sure,  half  a  dozen  others  had  seen  her,  though  she  was 
led  away  before  Fane  revived — before  they  sought  to  lift 
him  to  his  feet.  Sharpe  had  not  even  marked  her  going. 
It  really  made  no  great  difference  that  he  had  mentioned 
the  matter.  It  was  sure  to  be  known.  And  why  should 
it  not  be  ?  Miss  Hoyt  was  not  the  only  occupant  of  Clif 
ton  Hall  who  occasionally  spent  an  evening  at  the  home 


216  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

of  those  college  folk  who  dwelt  beyond  the  west  grove. 
The  broad  path  from  the  library  to  those  scattered  home 
steads  led  along  the  south  edge  of  the  grove,  not  thirty 
yards  from  the  spot  where  Fane  was  found.  Of  course 
it  must  have  been  her  shrieks  that  scared  and  scattered 
the  brutal  gang — more,  probably,  than  did  the  shot. 
Some  of  them,  he  remembered,  had  come  leaping  down 
the  terrace  back  of  his  laboratory.  He  could  hear  them 
plainly,  though  the  forms  were  but  faintly  visible.  He 
had  feared  when  called  to  the  President's  that  some  of  the 
students,  some  of  the  few  recalcitrants  whom  Fane  had 
disciplined,  might  be  connected  with  the  affray,  but  the 
moment  he  learned  that  Stetson  was  home  with  a  dam 
aged  nose  he  felt  sure,  and  thanked  God  for  it,  that  the 
ruffian  crew  were  all  probably  of  the  shop  and  saloon 
gang,  so  long  prominent  in  local  rows  of  every  kind. 

He  now  felt  sure  that  Fane  had  been  led  by  them  into 
ambush.  He  reasoned,  therefore,  it  was  no  thought  of 
meeting  Miss  Hoyt,  either  by  accident  or  invitation,  that 
brought  him  to  the  grove.  He  believed  Fane  had  been 
struck  from  behind  before  he  could  think  of  drawing 
pistol,  knocked  down  and  trampled  on.  What  he  could 
not  understand  was  how  Stetson  should  have  received  so 
terrific  a  blow.  What  he  could  not  determine  was  who 
dealt  it. 

Sharpe  could  hear  the  slamming  of  doors,  the  scurry 
ing  to  and  fro  of  nimble  feet,  the  cackle  of  excited  talk 
as  he  passed  under  the  lighted  windows  of  the  various 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  CEDARS   217 

houses  and  Halls  on  the  townward  side  of  the  college,  but 
he  Wished  to  avoid  question — avoid  in  fact  everybody 
until  he  could  better  control  his  nerves  and  temper.  He 
had  dared  this  night  to  beard  the  presidential  lion  in  his 
den,  and  was  preparing  himself  to  take  the  consequences. 
He  had  gone  direct  to  the  President  from  Fane's  bedside, 
and  was  exasperated  to  find  the  President  far  more  con 
cerned  about  Stetson's  injuries  than  those  of  Fane.  He 
should  not  even  have  been  surprised.  Next  to  his  reli 
gion  and  his  family,  the  college  was  the  good  doctor's 
dearest  thought.  That  Fane  had  been  assaulted  on  the 
college  grounds  might  advertise,  but  would  hardly  injure, 
the  institution.  That  Stetson  had  been  struck  down  on 
college  ground,  and  presumably  by  a  college  official,  might 
injure  it  beyond  repair. 

Sharpe  had  begun  greatly  to  like  that  young  soldier, 
and  was  one  of  the  first  to  swing  into  line  as  his  sup 
porter.  Sharpe  despised  Stetson  and  everything  that  was 
Stetson's,  and  believed  in  fighting  him  tooth  and  nail. 
Students  had  told  him  earlier  in  the  evening  of  Stetson's 
blusterings  in  town,  and  already  he  was  looking  for  clues 
that  should  connect  the  elder  man,  as  well  as  the  son,  with 
this  felonious  and  aggravated  assault.  From  a  distance 
now  he  could  see  the  lights  of  the  Stetson  house,  and  the 
coming  and  going  of  Stetson  "  heelers."  He  was  just 
considering  whether  or  no  he  might  venture  thither  with 
a  view  of  learning  something  of  Stetson,  senior's,  move 
ments,  when  from  the  other  side  of  the  avenue  he  heard 


218  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

the  swift  thud  of  hoofs  and,  turning,  saw  the  side  lights 
of  Dr.  Raynor's  buggy.  He  sprang  into  the  road  and 
stopped  it. 

"  How  is  he  now?  "  he  asked. 

"  Better,  but "  The  good  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  That  was  a  brutal  piece  of  business.  He  wants  to  talk 
with  you,  but  I  have  persuaded  him  to  try  sleep.  To-mor 
row,  perhaps.  Look  here,  Sharpe,  who— how  many  were 
with  him  when  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  Why,  old  Duggan,  or  we  couldn't  have  seen,  and  our 
two  A j axes — Post  and  Linkman,  from  the  observatory, 
they  came  running  at  the  same  moment.  Then,  I  sup 
pose  you  know,  Miss  Hoyt — the  new  French  teacher — 
was  passing  about  the  time  it  happened.  It  was  her 
screams  that  called  us.  She  was  kneeling  by  him  and 
lifting  his  head,  and  someone  was  helping  her." 

"Student?" 

"  I  don't  know— at  least  I  didn't  notice." 

"  One  of  those  who  helped  to  bring  him  home  ?  " 

"  Think  not.  If  I  remember,  he  helped  Miss  Hoyt  to 
her  feet  and  I  didn't  happen  to  see  him  again.  He  seemed 
to  know  her  very  well,"  and  Sharpe  spoke  with  reluct 
ance  even  though  he  knew  the  worth  of  his  man.  He 
remembered  how  Miss  Fane's  anxious  face  had  darkened 
when  he  told  her  of  Miss  Hoyt's  presence  and  part  in  the 
affair— how  she  had  asked  if  anybody  was  with  Miss 
Hoyt. 

Dr.  Raynor  nodded  gravely.     "  She  asked  her  brother 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  CEDARS   219 

some  such  question  and  it  seemed  to  irritate  him.  Have 
you  any  clue  yet  as  to  the  perpetrators?  " 

"  Clue !  I  should  say  so !  Young  Stetson's  home  with 
a  broken  nose,  so  the  President  says,  and  you  can  see 
there's  a  lively  bobbery  down  there.  The  old  man  is  yet 
to  be  heard  from " 

"  The  old  man  is,  or  was,  being  driven  about  in  a  hack 
to  sober  him  off.  They  went  out  the  Cedar  Point  road 
about  9:30 — two  friends  with  him,  one  of  them  enough 
like  him  in  bulk  and  build  to  be  his  twin  brother.  D'you 
know,  when  you  were  telling  me  of  the  affair  I  thought 
of  them  at  once,  but  you  had  some  reason  to  suspect 
students." 

"  I  had,  but  that's  gone,  now  that  we  have  young  Stet 
son  knocked  out.  Of  course,  though,  he'll  swear  and  get 
others  to  swear  he  wasn't  anywhere  near  the  west  grove. 
Did  Fane  recognize  nobody  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  didn't  see  a  soul.  He  was  looking  for  no 
body  until  he  got  close  to  the  gym,  and  all  on  a  sudden 
that  blow  came  that  dazed  him — a  club  from  behind  that 
felled  him  on  his  face.  Then  everything  was  a  blank 
until  he  heard  your  voice." 

"  Well,  doesn't  he  remember  firing?  " 

"  Firing !  What  had  he  to  fire  ?  He  never  took  his 
pistol.  It's  there  now,  every  chamber  loaded." 

"Well,  that's  great!  The  President  had  it  just  the 
other  way.  However,  somebody  fired,  and  somebody 
made  the  President  believe  it  was  Fane.  In  fact, 


220  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

he's  more  worked  up  about  that  than  he  is  about  the 
assault." 

Then  both  ceased  talking,  for  two  men  came  rapidly 
along  the  board  walk  from  the  direction  of  the  Stetson's. 
They  would  have  gone  on  by  but  the  doctor  hailed  them. 
Everybody  knew  Raynor ;  he  was  the  friend  of  all  classes 
and  conditions  of  men,  and  the  two  halted,  though  per 
haps  unwilling. 

"  That  you,  Higgins  ?  "  asked  the  doctor.  "  How's 
young  Stetson  ? " 

"  Pretty  bad,"  was  the  slow  answer.  "  Somebody 
struck  that  young  feller  a  croo'l  blow,  an'  he  just  out 
lookin'  for  the  old  man,  who  was  on  a  rampage." 

"Old  man  back?"     The  doctor  ignored  other  issues. 

"  Back — an'  ragin'.  Says  he'll  have  the  law  on  the  col 
lege  for  doin'  up  his  boy  when  he  was  doin'  his  best  to 
rescue  the  captain.  I  tell  you  them  students  are  a  tough 

lot." 

"  Students — was  it  ?  "  affably  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Students  sure !  "  said  the  citizen.  "  Didn't  he  see  'em 
in  the  woods  near  the  Point?  Who  else  would  be  for 
batin'  the  captain  ?  " 

Verily  the  President  had  reason  to  dread  the  issue — 
and  the  Evening  Star. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A     RUMBLE    OF     THUNDER 

FANE  was  up  with  the  fifth  day,  much  against  the 
physician's  advice ;  but  the  tremendous  stories 
afloat  had  reached  his  eyes  and  ears,  especially 
that  ~T  the  Star.  Young  Stetson  could  not  be  heard  as 
yet,  but  the  father  had  no  such  limitations.  It  may  be 
safely  asserted  that,  outside  of  college  circles,  nine-tenths 
of  the  community  were  ready  to  believe  the  Stetson  story 
as  told  by  that  paper,  to-wit:  that,  smarting  under  the 
injustice  done  him  by  the  Faculty,  the  young  fellow  had 
been  looking  everywhere  for  his  father  in  hopes  of  get 
ting  him  to  go  to  the  President  for  a  final  appeal.  Con 
trary  to  his  usual  habit  and  having  guests  to  entertain, 
Mr.  Stetson  had  decided  on  taking  them  for  a  late  fish 
dinner  at  Cedar  Point,  and  young  Stetson,  hearing  of 
this,  had  later  started  to  walk  thither,  taking  the  short 
cut  through  the  college  grounds.  When  nearing  the 
west  grove  in  the  darkness  he  caught  sight  of  Captain 
Fane  passing  underneath  the  lamp  post  at  Fullan  gate 
and  entering  the  grove  from  the  south.  The  next 
moment  he  heard  furious  blows,  a  stifled  cry  for  help  and 
a  shot  and,  "  knowing  the  hatred  in  which  Fane  was  held 
by  many  students,"  instantly  divined  the  cause,  rushed  to 

221 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

the  rescue  and,  even  while  striving  to  defend  the  pros 
trate  form,  was  felled  by  a  savage  blow  with  some  heavy 
bludgeon  that  blinded  him  and  broke  his  nose.  In  doing 
good  for  evil  he  had  nobly  suffered  martyrdom,  declared 
the  elder  Stetson,  and  it  was  now  the  college's  turn  and 
opportunity  to  do  right  by  at  once  re-instating  the  boy. 
If  it  didn't,  Stetson  and  the  law  would  be  heard  from. 

Miss  Hoyt  had  not  left  her  room  since  the  night  of  the 
occurrence — indeed  had  hardly  left  her  bed,  and  the 
matron  and  physician  of  the  Hall  declared  her  too  much 
shaken  to  submit  to  interrogations  such  as  the  President 
desired. 

The  story  she  told  at  the  time  was  that,  feeling  ill 
and  nervous,  she  had  gone  out  for  air,  and  was  sud 
denly  shocked  by  the  sound  of  blows  and  struggles  close 
at  hand  in  the  grove.  Then  came  a  shot,  whereat  in 
fright  she  screamed  for  help.  Some  dark  forms  rushed 
away,  and  then,  hearing  moans,  she  followed  the  sound 
and  there  lay  Captain  Fane.  Duggan  came  almost 
instantly  thereafter,  and  others,  and  finally  she  was  led 
away.  Yes,  in  answer  to  the  matron's  question,  asked 
three  days  later,  she  certainly  saw  dimly  one  form,  that 
of  young  Stetson,  slowly  and  painfully  finding  his  feet 
and  holding  his  hands  to  his  face.  Then  many  came 
running,  and  he  disappeared. 

Fane,  interrogated  by  the  President  as  to  why  he  had 
gone  armed  and  what  had  happened,  replied  that  he  had 
not  gone  armed — whereat  the  President  looked  dazed, 


A    RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER 

and  later  doubtful — and  that  there  would  have  been  no 
opportunity  to  use  arms  even  had  he  carried  a  pistol. 
He  was  struck  down  suddenly  from  behind,  and  actually 
knew  nothing  more.  The  anonymous  note  was  shown 
to  the  doctor;  he  read,  and  stowed  it  in  his  pocket.  It 
seemed  to  him  unseemly  that,  then,  both  Captain 
and  Miss  Fane  declined  to  part  with  it  even  to 
him. 

"  You  criticise  me  for  going  armed  when,  more  than 
any  man  in  this  community,  was  I  unarmed,"  said  Fane 
unflinchingly,  "  and  now  I  decline  to  part  with  proofs 
that  may  be  needed  to  repel  other  .accusations."  Verily, 
between  Fane  and  Sharpe  the  good  doctor  was  gaining 
new  and  undesired  views  on  the  doctrine  he  so  long 
had  preached — that  of  individual  responsibility  and 
independence  of  action.  Like  Thomas  Jefferson,  Sir 
Joseph  Porter,  K.  C.  B.,  and  other  expounders  on  social 
equality,  Dr.  Parsons  was  amazed  when  it  reacted  upon 
himself  and  his  assumed  prerogative. 

But  it  was  now  becoming  evident  to  those  who  knew 
Fane  that  he  was  far  more  perturbed  in  spirit  than 
injured  in  the  flesh.  In  falling  his  left  arm  had  doubled 
under  him  and  escaped  further  damage.  The  blow  at 
the  back  of  the  head  had  been  severe  and  stunning  and 
the  brutal  trampling  or  kiddng  that  followed  had  badly 
bruised  and  disfigured  his  face.  One  hack  on  the  right 
cheek  would  probably  leave  a  scar  as  permanent  as  the 
Apache  mark  along  the  forehead.  But  his  wrath  over 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

the  affair  was  far  too  deep  for  words.  It  was  something 
of  which,  apparently,  he  could  not  bear  to  speak,  and 
declined  to  speak,  even  when  the  President  himself 
appeared  a  second  time,  asking  to  be  shown  to  the 
patient's  room,  where,  it  seems,  he  had  wasted  little 
time  in  expressions  of  regret  or  sympathy,  but  quite  a 
number  of  words  in  questions  which  failed  to  elicit  the 
desired  answer.  Fane  shut  his  jaws  like  a  steel  trap, 
and  his  eyes  had  a  look  the  President  afterwards  spoke 
of  as  furious,  when  it  became  obvious  that  the  object  was 
to  draw  admission  that  Fane  had  knowledge  of  certain 
after-dark  movements  .of  a  certain  resident  of  Clifton 
Hall.  The  President  left  without  the  information  he 
desired,  and  with  additional  and  somewhat  alarming 
insight  into  the  character  of  this  intractable,  if  not  insub 
ordinate,  subordinate. 

When  Fane  reappeared  to  his  few  friends  of  the 
Faculty  he  was  all  cordiality  and  gratitude  to  Sharpe 
and  Lorimer.  He  was  icy  to  Beerbohm,  and  he  wouldn't 
go  near  the  President.  They  thought,  many  of  them, 
that  now  he  would  surely  resign  and  quit.  Indeed,  it 
was  understood  that  the  Executive  Committee  stood 
ready  to  act  at  once,  but  Sharpe  laughed  loud  at  the 
idea. 

"  So  far  from  resigning,"  said  he,  "  you'll  find  that 
young  man  sticking  tighter  than  wax  to  his  work.  If 
the  Trustees  are  asked  to  decide  anything,  it  will  be  what 
salary  to  give  him.  Listen  to  that!" 


A    RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER 

"  That,"  as  it  turned  out,  was  a  sudden  and  tumultuous 
outburst  of  cheers  from  the  gymnasium,  where  the  reap 
pearance  of  the  commandant  had  led  to  a  scene,  as 
Kipling  would  put  it,  "  totally  unprovided  for  in  the 
regulations," — a  burst  of  cheers  from  the  battalion,  rein 
forced  by  over  a  hundred  young  men  of  the  under 
graduate  body,  who  had  been  holding  a  students'  meeting 
to  express  their  sentiments  regarding  the  articles  appear 
ing  in  the  press.  That  meeting,  called  by  the  students 
themselves  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  college, 
led  to  new  and  unlooked-for  developments.  It  had  been 
addressed  by  the  President,  who  counseled  moderation; 
said  much  about  their  duty  to  the  State  and  to  the  college, 
more  about  the  evil  influences  of  the  saloon,  and  still 
more  about  the  unseemly  spirit  of  combativeness,  the  lust 
for  battle,  the  rage  for  revenge,  that  he  feared  would 
influence  their  councils  instead  of  that  broad  and  Chris- 
tianlike  attitude  toward  their  fellow  men  that  should 
characterize  the  deliberations  of  the  youth  of  these 
enlightened  days.  He  received  his  meed  of  applause— 
they  always  applauded,  and  most  of  them  honored,  their 
President.  Then,  with  his  coat  tails  streaming  in  the 
wind  and  his  felt  hat  crammed  down  and  held  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  he  strode  away  across  the  campus  to 
another  meeting,  a  meeting  of  the  professors,  called  by 
himself  to  consider  certain  changes  in  the  regulations 
applying  to  Clifton  Hall— changes,  as  he  said,  "  sug 
gested  by  recent  events,"  and  he,  too,  heard  and  was 


226  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

arrested  by  the  sudden  outburst  of  cheers.  He  looked 
back  in  mild  astonishment. 

"  It's  for  the  captain,"  explained  old  Duggan,  with  a 
Celtic  grin.  "  He's  a  good-plucked  one,  an'  it  '11  be  a 
sorry  day  for  them  town  blackguards  when  he  gets  out 
and  after  'em." 

The  President  sighed  and  passed  within.  Could  he 
never  teach  these  fiery  young  spirits  that  when  one  cheek 
had  been  sore  smitten,  the  other  also,  in  meekness  and 
resignation,  should  be  turned? 

Apparently  not.  Fane  had  heard  of  the  proposed 
action  at  the  gymnasium ;  had  his  own  reasons  for  desir 
ing  to  stay  it  and,  all  unannounced  and  unlooked  for, 
appeared  in  the  midst  of  a  stirring  impromptu  from  the 
lips  of  a  speechmaking  senior  who  would  "  hurl  back 
into  the  teeth  of  the  Evening  Star  the  false  and  defama 
tory  allegations  at  the  expense  of  the  student  body."  He 
challenged  proof ;  he  courted  investigation ;  he  demanded 
apology,  retraction,  and,  unlimbering  a  set  of  fulminat 
ing  resolutions,  had  begun  to  read  them,  when  his  voice 
was  drowned  in  a  torrent  of  cheers.  The  next  thing  he 
knew  Fane  himself  had  been  chaired  to  the  firewood  box 
that  was  the  improvised  rostrum,  and,  presently,  in  re 
sponse  to  tumultuous  demand,  Fane's  voice,  less  ringing 
than  they  had  ever  heard  it,  yet  powerful  for  good,  was 
uplifted  in  a  brief  speech  long  remembered  in  the  legends 
and  traditions  of  the  State  "  Co-Eductional." 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  first  for  this  most  unlooked-for 


A   RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER  227 

welcome  and  greeting.  It  is  something  new  to  me — 
something  I  shall  not  soon  forget.  You  have  spoken  for 
me,  drilled  for  me,  and,  as  I  have  learned,  some  of  you 
have  stood  up  and  fought  for  me.  Now  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  to  go  still  further,  to  do  something  for  me  that 
in  your  loyalty  and  friendliness  you  haven't  done  yet.  I 
ask  you  to  be  silent  for  me. 

"  No  wonder  you  look  surprised.  I  heard  the  latter 
part  of  the  last  speaker's  address,  and  I  am  grateful  for 
every  word  said  for  the  battalion,  for  the  student  body 
and  for  myself.  I  heard  the  resolutions.  They  are 
indeed  stirring.  They  are  too  stirring.  You  know,  and 
I  know,  that  no  student  of  this  college  had  any  part  in 
the  assault  of  that  Friday  night.  [Cheers.]  You  know 
and  I  know  one  at  least  of  the  participants.  ["  You  bet 
we  do."]  But  you  do  not  know  what  I  do  know,  that 
there  is  something  more  to  this  matter  than  as  yet 
appears.  The  action  you  propose  would  have  the  effect 
of  warning  men  I  most  need  to  reach.  I  ask  you  to  help 
me,  and  the  more  you  stir  things  the  less  you  will  help. 
Be  patient,  therefore,  and — be  silent.  Leave  this  matter 
to  me,  and  bear  this  in  mind:  If  I  do  not  settle  it  once 
and  for  all  within  a  month  I'll  leave  the  field  to  you. 
This  you  may  count  on:  I  shall  ask  no  aid  from  the 
college  in  nailing  the  man,  or  settling  with  him  when  I 
find  him." 

In  garbled  and  exaggerated  form,  of  course,  the  words 
went  to  the  press,  but  the  resolutions  did  not.     It  was 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

held  by  the  Star  that,  in  so  speaking,  Captain  Fane  dis 
tinctly  threatened  some  person  or  persons  hitherto  unsus 
pected,  and  it  was  believed  that  "one  of  our  most 
respected  citizens  "  was  aimed  at.  Now,  Stetson,  senior, 
had  unaccountably  left  town.  By  a  night  train  he  had 
gone,  it  was  said,  to  Chicago.  An  uproarious  demon 
stration  on  the  part  of  the  students,  consequent  upon  the 
Star's  renewal  of  its  attack  upon  Fane,  and  its  assertion 
"that  the  students  themselves  were  his  real  assailants,  may 
have  had  something  to  do  with  this  exodus.  The  son 
and  heir,  still  under  guard  of  the  family  physician,  had 
not  yet,  by  daytime,  at  least,  left  the  house.  But  Fane's 
appeal  to  the  student  body  had  had  double  effect. 
Demonstrations  ceased.  Drills  were  resumed,  and  ten 
names  hitherto  reported  excused  by  the  President  were, 
at  the  request  of  the  excused,  added  to  the  battalion  rolls. 

Then  followed  a  five  days'  lull  in  the  fight,  and  then 
came  a  stranger  and  even  more  mysterious  move.  Profes 
sor  Beerbohm,  closing  up  after  the  final  recitation  of  the 
day,  was  notified  that  the  President  desired  to  see  him 
at  the  office  at  once,  and  at  that  office  already  sat  Profes 
sors  Sharpe  and  Lorimer,  in  company  with  a  stranger. 
The  President  seldom  introduced  people.  He  said  it 
was  a  waste  of  time :  people  who  desired  to  know  other 
people  waited  for  no  such  intermediary.  He  went,  as 
was  his  wont,  straight  to  business. 

"  Did  you  bring  anybody  to  see  me  Friday  evening  a 
week  ago  ?  " 


A    RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER  229 

Beerbohm  reflected,  began  to  color  and  finally  said: 
"  No,  sir." 

"  You  came  in  about  tea  time,  as  I  remember ;  didn't 
you?" 

"  /  did,  yes,  sir,  but  I  brought  nobody." 

The  good  doctor  turned  to  his  fellows  of  the  Faculty. 

""  The  captain  must  have  been  mistaken,"  said  he. 

"  Not  entirely,"  said  Professor  Sharpe.  "  Pardon  me 
if  I  ask  Professor  Beerbohm  a  question.  Was  it  not 
that  evening  you  went  through  from  College  Avenue  to 
the  President,  walking  with  a  stranger,  in  a  dark  sack 
suit?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Beerbohm,  warily  and  uneasily.  "  But 
he  was  merely  asking  the  way  and  I  was  showing 
him." 

"  To  Mr.  Stetson's  house,  was  it  not  ? "  persisted 
Sharpe. 

"  To — Mr.  Stetson's,"  answered  Beerbohm,  flushing, 
with  ill-concealed  annoyance. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  this — this  gentleman  what 
name  he  gave  and  what  happened  ?  "  And  Sharpe  indi 
cated  the  silent  stranger. 

"  He  gave  no  name  that  I  now  remember.  He 
appeared  interested  in  college  matters  and  talked  enter 
tainingly  until  we  parted  in  front  of  the  President's.  I 
never  met  him  before." 

"But  you  met  him — after,  I  believe?"  hazarded  the 
stranger  very  civilly. 


230  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Beerbohm  hesitated:  "  Not— since  that  night,"  was, 
however,  his  answer. 

"  True — not  since  that  night ;  but  once  again  that 
night,  did  you  not  ?  " 

It  was  now  time  for  the  professor  to  manifest  right 
eous  resentment.  What  could  this  close  examination 
portend  ?  He  had  seen  the  stranger  again  that  night,  and 
he  did  not  at  all  wish  to  say  how  and  when  and  why.  "  I 
protest,"  said  he,  "against  this  inquisition  until  I  know 
what  it  means." 

"  It  means,  professor,"  said  the  stranger,  "  that  a  man 
closely  resembling  Mr.  Stetson  in  several  ways  was  with 
you  at  Mr.  Stetson's  house  that  night — went  out,  in  fact, 
with  Mr.  Stetson,  and  now  is  very  much  needed  to  put  a 
quietus  on  damaging  stories  afloat.  You  say  he  did  not 
give  his  name,  but,  did  nobody  give  it  for  him  ?  " 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Beerbohm  excitedly,  appeal- 
ingly,  "  I  have  had  annoyance  and  trouble  enough  grow 
ing  out  of  the — the  complications  that  have  arisen  here 
since — since  Mr.  Fane's  advent,  and  now  I  object  to  being 
catechized  by  a  stranger.  If  you  have  any  questions  to 
ask  I  will  answer  them." 

Now  it  was  characteristic  of  the  President  that  when, 
"  for  the  good  of  the  college,"  as  he  said,  he  believed  it 
possible  to  influence  an  influential  man,  he  would  not 
hesitate  to  call  upon  him  and  seek  to  advise  or  dictate, 
even  when  he  and  that  man  had  been  at  loggerheads  for 
months.  But,  while  he  could  see  nothing  objectionable 


A   RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER 

in  his  calling  upon  even  objectionable  persons,  he 
strongly  objected  to  such  a  course  on  part  of  any  other 
man  connected  with  the  college.  There  could  be  nothing 
suspicious  in  his  going,  for  instance,  to  see  Mr.  Stetson. 
There  could  be  nothing,  however,  that  was  not  suspicious 
in  Professor  Beerbohm's  doing  so.  When  trustees  or 
politicians  were  to  be  enlightened  as  to  college  matters, 
Dr.  Parsons  decreed  that  it  was  his  light  that  should  so 
shine  as  to  color  the  subject  in  accordance  with  his  presi 
dential  views.  Only  when  he  so  directed,  therefore,  did 
he  desire  his  subordinates  to  call  upon  these  notoriously 
disreputable  but  admittedly  influential  people.  Yet  here 
it  looked  as  though,  without  a  word  to  him  on  the  sub 
ject,  Professor  Beerbohm  had  gone  direct  from  the  presi 
dential  presence  to  the  home  of  the  objectionable  Stet 
son — Stetson  who  on  that  very  evening  had  been  heard 
of  as  drunk  and  denunciatory  among  the  downtown 
saloons.  The  President  himself  had  begun  to  bristle  at 
the  tone  and  trend  of  the  stranger's  questions.  Now,  in 
tone  much  less  courteous  than  the  latter's,  and  in  manner 
both  suspicious  and  irritated,  Parsons  sent  in  his  own 
query : 

"  Then  you  rejoined  this  man  at  Stetson's  after  leav 
ing  my  house  ?  " 

"  I — did,  sir.  It  was  a  matter  of  charity  and  courtesy. 
He  had  come  to  see  Mr.  Stetson  on  important  business, 
he  said,  and  I  had  heard — had  reason  to  believe — Mr. 
Stetson  was  not  at  home  and  probably  would  not  be  at 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

home.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  he  did  come,  in  a 
carriage,  while  I  was  there,  and  later  they  drove  away 
together." 

"  You  knew  of  Stetson's  not  being  at  home.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  him  so  before?" 

"  That — possibly  was  an  afterthought,  Mr.  Presi 
dent." 

"  H'm !  and  how  long  were  you  there,  and  what  kept 
you  after  Stetson's  home  coming? — more  charity?" 
demanded  Parsons  austerely. 

"  Partially,  at  least,"  was  the  nettled  answer,  "  for  he 
needed  looking  after,  and  if  I  made  myself  useful  under 
the  circumstances,  I  did  no  more  than  our  President  has 
frequently  preached " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that !  "  broke  in  the 
good  doctor  irascibly.  "  What  I  object  to  is  having 
members  of  our  faculty  at  any  time  seeking  the  influence 
of  the  saloon  element.  Especially  is  it  to  be  deprecated 
at  the  present  time." 

It  must  be  owned  that  the  conference  was  becoming 
livelier  than  its  promoters,  Professors  Sharpe  and  Lori- 
mer,  had  expected  or  intended.  The  look  of  whimsical 
enjoyment  was  fast  flitting  from  the  eyes  of  the  former, 
while  Lorimer  sat  silent  and  embarrassed.  By  him  sat 
the  stranger,  observant,  but  in  no  wise  obtrusive.  The 
President's  questions  were  saving  him  just  so  much 
trouble.  A  hot  rejoinder  from  the  lips  of  the  much 
badgered  Beerbohm  was  stopped  by  the  entrance  of  the 


A    RUMBLE    OF    THUNDER  233 

janitor,  hat  in  hand.  "  The  captain  is  not  home,  sir," 
said  he,  and  laid  a  note  on  the  table.  The  President 
briefly  glanced  through  it ;  then  looked  up,  quickly,  relief 
in  his  eyes. 

"  The  man  we  most  want,"  said  he,  "  can't  be  back 
before  to-morrow  evening.  Captain  Fane  is  in  Chicago. 
This  meeting  is  adjourned.  Professor  Beerbohm  will 
remain.  I  wish  to  speak  with  him." 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  said  Beerbohm  on  the  instant, 

"  I  desire  that  Professors  Sharpe  and  Lorimer  remain 
as  witnesses." 

The  stranger  arose,  and  bowed  civilly.  "  With  your 
leave,  Mr.  President,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  retire  in  one 
moment ;  but  I  have  two  question  to  ask  Professor  Beer 
bohm."  And  without  further  parley  he  took  from  a  flat 
wallet  a  card  photograph  and  held  it  forth  to  the  flushed 
and  angering  scientist.  "That,"  said  he,  "is,  I  think, 
the  gentleman  you  saw  driving  away  with  Stetson  ?  " 

"  It  is  at  least  the  picture  of  him,"  was  the  short 
reply. 

"  Well  answered,  professor.  Now,  one  more :  What 
suggested  your  writing  to  this  gentleman  '  for  inside 
information  as  to  Captain  Fane's  conduct  in  Arizona  '  ?  " 
Beerbohm's  face  turned  suddenly  livid.  For  an  instant 
he  could  make  no  answer.  The  next,  he  impulsively 
began,  "  I  never—  But  what  was  the  use  ?  He  saw 

the  man  knew. 

"  I  wrote  because — I  considered  this  college  entitled  to 


234  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

know  the  real  character  of  this  officer  who  was  making  so 

much  trouble " 

"  Precisely ;  and  this  man  Stetson  cat's-pawed  you  into 
doing  what  he  dared  not  do — making  you,  what's  more, 
almost  directly  responsible  for  what  followed,  or  may  yet 
follow.  Good-day,  gentlemen." 


CHAPTER   IX 

A    TURN     IN     THE    TIDE 

MISS  FANE  was  in  sore  disquietude.  Out  of 
all  proportion  with  the  gravity  of  the  assault 
upon  him  was  her  brother's  mind  inflamed  by 
recent  events.  For  one  thing,  the  tide  of  college  opinion 
had  turned  surprisingly  in  his  favor  as  the  result  of  the 
fray,  so  why  care  for  the  community?  For  another 
thing,  professors  and  professors'  wives,  who  hitherto  had 
seemed  to  hold  aloof,  had  come  in  numbers  to  call  upon 
them  and  to  sympathize.  They  left,  it  must  be  owned, 
less  sympathetic  than  they  came,  because  poor  Mrs.  Fane 
could  not  forget  his  grievance,  and  received  them  with  a 
majesty  of  mien  quite  at  variance  with  the  humble  char 
acter  of  their  surroundings.  For  still  another  thing,  the 
press  throughout  the  State  had  begun  to  take  issue  with 
the  Star,  and  home  letters  from  students  finding  their  way 
into  many  a  home  paper  threw  a  very  different  and  far 
less  lurid  light  over  matters  at  college.  The  brutal  force 
of  the  blow,  therefore,  had  brought  on  almost  as  forceful 
reaction. 

Yet  her  brother  seemed  tuned  to  a  pitch  of  nervous 
excitement,  if  not  irritability,  Jane  had  never  seen  in  him 
before.  He  could  not  sleep.  He  was  up  and  about  at 
all  hours  of  the  night.  He  would  not  explain.  He  was 

235 


236  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  scouting  a  trail,"  he  said,  and  had  no  time  to  talk.  He 
would  tell  her  by  and  by.  He  was  sending  and  receiv 
ing  telegrams  and  letters,  Chicago  being  the  seat  of  the 
storm  center.  He  had  heard  thrice  from  Hazlett,  whose 
"  wires  "  or  letters  seemed  to  excite  him  more  than  ever. 
He  had  thrice  asked  Jane  if  she  had  been  to  call  on  Miss 
Hoyt;  if  not,  why  not?  And  Jane  went  against  her  will, 
though  she,  too,  had  heard  how  her  brother's  senseless 
head,  senseless  and  bleeding,  had  been  lifted  in  Miss 
Hoyt's  arms,  to  the  ruin  of  Miss  Hoyt's  much-admired 
fall  walking  suit.  She  still  cherished  the  story  of  Miss 
Hoyt's  many  masculine  letters,  and  the  memory  of  Miss 
Hoyt's  mysterious  night  interview  with  that  masculine 
unknown.  She  went  because  Ronald  kept  asking,  and 
came  away  civilly  rebuffed :  "  Miss  Hoyt  is  unable  to 
see  callers  to-day,"  and  at  that  very  moment,  unless  Miss 
Fane's  sharp  eyes  were  mistaken,  Mrs.  Sharpe  was  with 
Miss  Hoyt.  Mrs.  Sharpe  for  that  matter  had  been  with 
her  every  day,  and  some  nights,  and  Mrs.  Sharpe  wars  a 
woman  no  other  woman  about  the  college  ever  spoke  of 
save  in  respect.  Jane  was  troubled — puzzled — wearied. 
She  thought  she  had  had  reason  to  stifle  Ronald's  admira 
tion  for  that  girl.  She  had  staggered  it.  She  could  see 
that.  But  something  had  served  to  revive  his  keen  and 
vehement  interest.  He  desired  to  know  when  Miss 
Hoyt  would  receive  Jane?  The  next  thing,  probably,  he 
would  be  demanding  that  she  should  receive  him. 
Then  there  had  come  a  wire,  late  one  evening,  and  by 


A   TURN    IN    THE    TIDE  237 

the  midnight  train  he  left  for  Chicago,  and  on  the  follow 
ing  day  there  called  a  well-dressed  stranger  who  pre 
sented  a  letter  in  Ronald's  hand,  bidding  her  place  in  the 
hand  of  the  stranger  certain  papers  in  a  certain  pigeon 
hole  in  his  desk.  She  obeyed,  wondering.  She  followed 
the  stranger  with  her  eyes  and  saw  him  join  Professor 
Sharpe  down  the  street,  and,  somehow,  was  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  Sharpe  had  escorted  him  almost  to  the 
door,  then  remained  in  the  background.  The  next  hour 
brought  the  janitor  with  the  request  from  the  President 
that  Fane  come  to  his  office  at  once,  and  Jane  wrote 
reply  to  the  effect  that  her  brother  was  in  Chicago,  and 
reminded  the  President  that  he  had  said  he  preferred 
Captain  Fane  should  not  disturb  him  when  he  wished  to 
go  anywhere — that,  between  drills,  he  was  free  to  go  and 
come.  Indeed,  the  President  had  spoken  as  though  he 
wished  the  captain  might  go  and — stay. 

Fane  would  not  return  until  the  following  morning, 
she  wrote  the  President,  and  such  had  been  his  plan,  yet 
he  was  home  that  very  evening,  late,  and  with  him  came 
that  stranger,  the  quiet-mannered,  well-dressed  man, 
garbed  like  a  civilian  and  bearing  himself  like  a  soldier. 
She  could  have  rushed  upon  him  with  both  hands  when 
Ronald  quietly  presented  him  by  name,  "  Captain 
Hazlett." 

Mrs.  Fane  and  the  Lady  Clare,  however,  monopolized 
much  of  the  visitor's  time,  so  "  plain  Jane  "  had  but  scant 
opportunity  to  speak  with  him.  At  ten  o'clock  Fane  had 


238  THE    MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

laughingly  called  "  time  "  and  carried  him  away  to  his 
own  room.  There,  together,  Hazlett  and  Ronald,  they  had 
talked  earnestly  a  full  hour.  At  eleven  Ronald  came  to 
his  sister's  door;  kissed  her  good-night,  saying  it  might 
be  nearly  twelve  before  he  returned;  then  escorted  his 
friend  and  comrade  to  the  railway  station  and  saw  him 
off  for  Chicago.  She  looked  and  saw  the  light  in  his 
window  in  the  wing  as  late  as  12:30,  and  longed  to  go 
down  to  him,  for  she,  too,  was  sleepless,  but  she  knew  it 
would  only  worry  him  now.  She  read  awhile  and  looked 
again  and  the  light  was  still  there.  Then  she  must  have 
dozed  a  little  while,  for  again  the  big  bell  struck  its 
solemn,  single  note,  following  in  her  mind  so  close  upon 
the  other  that  it  had  the  effect  of  a  funeral  toll,  and  with 
something  like  a  shudder  she  found  herself  counting  ten 
seconds  in  expectation  of  the  coming  of  another  stroke. 
Then,  wide  awake,  once  more  she  turned  down  her  read 
ing  lamp ;  once  more  strolled  to  the  window  and  gazed 
down  at  Ronald's. 

One  o'clock,  and  his  light  was  still  there.  Moreover, 
she  was  not  the  only  watcher  of  the  light.  Somebody 
else  was  there — somebody  moving  stealthily  and  slowly, 
close  to  the  dark  wall.  She  might  not  have  seen  the 
shadowy  form  at  all,  for  there  was  no  moon,  the  starlight 
was  dim,  and  the  nearest  gas  lamp  but  faintly  illumined 
that  part  of  the  yard.  The  figure,  however,  at  the  very 
moment  she  gazed  forth,  had  uplifted  hand  and  arm. 
She  could  see  them,  black  against  the  glow  from  within; 


A    TURN    IN    THE    TIDE  239 

the  hand  softly  tapping  at  the  window  pane;  then  down 
it  dropped,  and  by  straining  her  eyes  she  could  faintly 
see  the  figure  skulking  back  to  the  corner  of  the  wing, 
from  which  point  both  the  lighted  window  at  the  front 
and  the  door  at  the  side  could  be  watched,  and  there, 
crouching,  it  seemed  to  await  the  result  of  the  signal. 

But  there  was  no  result.  The  shade  was  not  lifted. 
The  window  remained  closed.  The  shadow  at  the  cor 
ner  stirred  uneasily,  and  Jane  watched  with  throbbing 
heart.  Did  this  mean  more  mischief,  or  wras  it  warning 
thereof?  If  menace  or  mischief,  would  the  shadow  have 
retreated  to  the  corner  whence  no  blow  or  missile  could  be 
delivered?  Unless,  indeed,  and  Jane  was  quick  to  think 
and  as  quick  to  search,  confederates  might  be  lurking  a 
rod  or  two  away  in  readiness  to  loose  shot  or  stone? 
But,  though  dark,  the  yard  was  open,  flat,  a  miniature 
croquet  ground,  affording  no  place  for  concealment. 
The  shadow  had  probably  come  from  the  back  of  the 
premises,  and  retired  the  way  it  came.  The  shadow 
might  have  a  pistol.  It  certainly  carried  no  visible 
weapon.  It  certainly  had  sought  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  occupant  of  that  room,  and  no  one  else.  It  as 
certainly  was  awaiting,  in  obvious  impatience,  the  result. 
Jane,  too,  waited,  and  presently  it  came  again,  creeping 
along  the  white-painted,  dark-looming  front  of  the  wing 
until  once  again  at  the  lighted  window,  and  once  again 
hand  and  arm  went  up  to  the  pane  and  thrice,  low,  yet 
distinct,  the  sharp,  vitreous  sound  was  heard.  The  hand 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

was  then  again  withdrawn,  and  the  figure  crouched  half 
way  to  the  corner,  and  again  waited  and  listened. 

Jane,  peering  through  the  green  shutters  and  count 
ing  her  hurried  heartbeats,  still  watched  and  waited. 
Could  Ronald  at  last  have  fallen  asleep?  If  not,  and  he 
was  within  the  room,  he  must  have  heard,  yet  would  give 
no  sign.  One  minute,  nearly,  they  waited  again,  the 
crouching,  shadowy  form,  the  watchful  woman  at  the 
casement,  and  then  a  third  time  the  shadow  approached 
the  window;  paused  beneath,  and  then  two  hands  went 
up  to  the  pane,  and  sharp  and  sudden,  clear  and  distinct, 
the  fingers  beat  upon  the  glazed  soundingboard  a  signal 
no  soldier  could  possibly  mistake.  Jane  knew  it  instantly, 
and  started  with  astonishment,  for  not  since  she  left  Fort 
Adams  had  it  reached  her  ears.  It  was  the  stirring  drum 
beat  of  "  Adjutant's  Call." 

This,  then,  was  someone  to  whom  army  calls  were 
familiar,  and  such  calls  were  far  less  familiar  in  the  '7o's 
than  they  are  to-day.  This  then  was  probably  no  col 
lege  student,  for  though  they  had  their  bugles  in  the 
little  battalion,  there  had  been  as  yet,  since  Ronald  came, 
no  battalion  formation — no  adjutant's  call.  They  had 
not  indeed  a  drum  or  drummer.  Whoever  it  was  strum 
ming  that  signal  on  Ronald's  window,  he  had  learned  it 
elsewhere,  and  not  at  Groveton.  Now,  indeed,  must 
Ronald  answer,  or  be  deaf  to  it. 

Another  minute  she  waited,  and  no  answer  came.  The 
light  burned  steadily,  but  all  was  silent.  The  call  was 


A    TURN    IN    THE    TIDE 

not  repeated.  The  shadow  presently  stole  slowly,  reluc 
tantly  away,  vanishing  finally  in  the  deeper  shadows 
around  the  corner  of  the  little  wing.  Jane  could  stand 
it  no  longer.  Taking  with  her  a  little  night  lamp,  she 
stole  into  the  narrow  hallway,  down  the  stairs  and 
through  the  deserted  parlor  and  dining  room  to  another 
hallway  leading  to  the  wing.  She  found  his  door 
unlocked,  his  room  unoccupied,  his  pillow  unruffled,  his 
wardrobe  open,  his  revolver  gone.  Ah,  she  wished  he 
had  not  taken  that!  Whatever  his  errand, — his  extrem 
ity, — she  wished  he  had  not  taken  that!  There  was 
little  likelihood,  she  reasoned,  of  further  violence  to  him. 
Public  sentiment,  that  at  first  had  been  indifferent  to  his 
possible  danger,  had  roused  vehemently  after  the  attack. 
It  is  our  national  characteristic.  We  scorn  precaution 
for  ourselves;  we  scoff  at  it  for  our  national  servants, 
but  we  wake  in  righteous  wrath  when  once  the  brutal 
deed  is  done.  We  boast  ourselves  perennially  of  the 
approachableness  of  our  leaders,  and  kick  ourselves  a 
day  or  two,  perhaps,  when  at  odd  intervals,  in  open  light 
and  in  the  midst  of  his  own  people,  a  beloved  President 
is  assassinated.  We  blow  up  by  scores  our  friends  and 
fellow  citizens  through  defective  mines  or  weakened 
boilers.  We  burn  up  by  hundreds  our  women  and  chil 
dren  in  playhouses  and  pleasure  boats.  We  grind  them 
to  fragments  in  excusion  trains  and  railway  tragedies. 
We  rage  a  lot  when  the  mischief  is  done,  but  achieve 
little  more  than  we  did  before  in  the  way  of  an  "  ounce 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

of  prevention."  We  have  had  a  half  century  of  experi 
ences  that  should  have  brought  wisdom,  but  have  killed 
off  far  more  victims  this  end  of  the  half  than  we  did  at 
the  other. 

Groveton  was  as  certainly  wondering  now  why  Fane 
did  not  carry  a  pistol  as  two  weeks  before  it  would  have 
been  censuring  had  he  carried  one.  But  Jane  was  look 
ing  at  it  all  from  still  another  point  of  view,  and  Jane 
was  more  than  troubled — troubled  that  at  so  late  an  hour 
her  brother  should  be  out  at  all — troubled  that,  being 
out,  he  should  carry  that  revolver.  The  danger  was  no 
longer  in  her  eyes  that  others  might  injure  him,  but  that 
he  might  injure  others.  Knowing  him  as  she  did;  know 
ing  his  quick,  high  temper;  knowing  how  furiously  he 
raged  at  heart  over  the  cowardly  assault  upon  him,  the 
covert  indignity  to  his  uniform ;  knowing  how  deep  was 
his  sense  of  wrong  and  how  keen  his  longing  to  meet  his 
foeman  face  to  face,  she  deplored  his  having  taken  that 
weapon  with  him.  Had  Jane  begun  to  know  that  still 
other  things  had  happened  to  stir  to  the  uttermost  his 
fiery  nature,  her  anxiety  would  have  been  redoubled. 

That  knowledge  was  yet  to  come,  and  to  confound  her. 

Slowly  she  turned  away.  There  were  letters  and 
memoranda  lying  on  the  little  table,  some  of  them  tempt 
ingly  half  open,  but  Jane  had  been  brooding  over  that 
single  case  of  spying  to  which  she  humbly  pleaded  guilty. 
Ronald  had  said  he  would  tell  her  later  what  all  this 
mystery  meant,  and  though  sore  troubled  and  sleepless 


A    TURN    IN    THE    TIDE 

from  anxiety,  she  would  not  spy  further,  even  to  the 
extent  of  reading  open  pages.  Perhaps  if  she  had  she 
might  have  averted  more  than  one  fateful  consequence, 
but  read  she  would  not.  Ronald  could  not  bear  it  in 
man  or  woman  that  he  or  she  should  peep  or  pry  into 
other  people's  affairs,  and  Ron  was  growing  beyond  her, 
away  from  her,  the  sister  who  so  loved  him.  God  forbid 
she  should  do  aught  that  might  ever  drive  him  aloof 
from  her.  She  would  go  back  to  her  room,  but  she  must 
leave  a  line  for  him.  A  blank  "  pad  "  lay  on  the  desk,  a 
pencil  beside  it,  and  she  wrote: 

I  am  so  anxious,  Ron,  dear.  Seeing  your  light  burning  so  late 
brought  me  down,  and  there  was  somebody  spying — signaling 
at  your  window.  I  had  to  come  down  and  you  were  gone — • 
your  revolver,  too.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  in  the  morning. 
Whoever  it  was,  he's  gone  and  it's  long  after  one — nearer 
two.  Lovingly,  J. 

Was  he  gone?  Something  impelled  her  to  stop  a 
minute  and  try  the  little  side  door  that  opened  on  the 
yard.  It  was  unbolted,  but  the  lock  worked  clumsily, 
and  snapped  as  she  essayed  to  open — snapped  and 
attracted  the  instant  attention  of  some  shadowy  thing 
standing  at  the  coping  of  the  old  well  between  the  open 
ing  door  and  the  westward  sky — something  that  started, 
that  came  quickly,  stealthily,  a  few  steps  toward  her,  then 
suddenly  stopped,  seemed  to  stare  an  instant,  then  turned 
and  plunged  through  the  currant  bushes  at  the  back  of 


244  THE    MEDAL    OF   HONOR 

the  wing,  and  was  out  of  sight  in  another  second.  Her 
little  lamp,  upheld,  had  thrown  its  beam  upon  her 
anxious  face.  It  was  not  the  face  the  intruder  hoped 
and  looked  to  see.  What  stranger,  friend  or  foe,  was 
this  that  haunted  her  brother's  door  long  hours  in  the 
dead  of  night? 

And  still  she  wished  that  Ronald  had  not  taken  his 
revolver ! 

Wearily  she  went  back  to  her  room,  blew  out  her  light, 
softly  opened  her  window  shutters,  and  crouched  there, 
looking  out  upon  the  chill  and  silent  night.  No  wind 
was  stirring.  No  cloud  was  scudding  across  the  sky. 
A  dense  veil  of  vapor  seemed  to  be  drawn  across  the 
firmament,  shrouding  even  the  planets  in  their  solemn 
round.  The  nearest  street  lamp  threw  a  pallid  gleam 
along  the  board  walk  at  the  front  and  part  way  across 
the  unpaved  street.  Darkness  brooded  over  all  the 
neighborhood,  even  to  the  distant  buildings  on  college 
hill.  Only  from  two  windows,  far  or  near,  was  there 
sign  of  wakefulness  within.  Twenty  minutes  earlier 
there  was  only  one.  First  was  this  bright  one  close  at 
hand  from  Ronald's  bedroom  in  the  wing.  Second  was 
that  dim  one  over  to  the  westward,  across  the  faintly 
plashing  waters,  somewhere  among  the  tawdry  buildings 
on  the  Island,  the  now  supposedly  deserted  pleasure 
resort  much  affected  in  the  summertime  and  early 
autumn  by  Stetson  and  his  cronies.  Once  or  twice  of 
late  had  Jane  noticed  a  night  light  at  "  the  Roost,"  as 


A    TURN    IN    THE    TIDE  245 

some  of  the  students  derisively  called  it,  but  when  she 
spoke  of  it,  Mrs.  Jamieson,  who  happened  to  hear,  was 
prompt  to  say  she  had  probably  seen  some  locomotive 
headlight  much  farther  beyond.  There  was  no  one  on 
the  Island  now  but  an  old  German  care-taker  and  his 
wife.  The  resort,  such  as  it  was,  had  closed  for  the 
season  long  weeks  before.  These  Germans,  said  Mrs. 
Jamieson,  were  never  astir  after  dark,  and  often  asleep, 
in  the  daytime. 

Then  who  was  astir  over  there  to-night  ?  It  was  close 
to  the  hour  of  two.  Jane  expected  every  moment  to 
hear  the  deep  boom  of  the  college  bell,  yet,  late  as  it  was, 
somebody  must  be  moving  about  among  those  distant 
and  deserted  buildings.  There  was  a  sort  of  pavilion 
and  dancing  platform,  roofed  above  but  open  at  the  sides. 
There  was  a  bowling  alley  with  a  wooden  observation 
tower.  There  was  a  main  building  in  which  were  the 
bar  and  billiard  room,  living  rooms,  kitchen  and  card 
rooms,  for  rumor  had  it  that  gambling  was  rife  there  in 
the  height  of  the  season.  There  was  a  little  boathouse 
with  a  wooden  landing  pier  down  at  the  townward  side, 
and  now  at  2,  a.  m., — for  "  the  Senator,"  as  the  students 
called  the  bell,  spoke  at  the  instant — a  light  as  of  a  lan 
tern  was  dancing  from  the  building  at  the  summit  down 
to  the  landing  at  the  shore,  while  the  light  near  the 
summit  still  burned,  dim  yet  steady. 

Jane  took  from  its  case  a  binocular  field  glass  that 
had  been  her  father's  in  the  war  days,  and  focused  it  on 


246  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

the  summit  light.  It  seemed  to  be  that  of  a  kerosene 
lamp  in  the  bar  or  office.  Then  she  sought  that  other, 
the  dancing  light,  and  presently  found  it — stirring  about 
a  moment  among  the  rocks  at  the  little  landing.  Then 
it  seemed  to  drop  into  a  boat  or  something  of  the  kind 
and  at  once  popped  out  of  sight.  Three  minutes  more 
and  a  shade  seemed  drawn  across  the  other,  the  one  at 
the  Roost,  for  it  first  dimmed,  then  disappeared,  and  all 
at  the  island  was  darkness. 

Searching  the  surface  with  her  glasses  Jane  presently 
decided  that,  though  faint  and  feeble,  some  kind  of  a 
misty,  will-o'-the-wisp  gleam  was  sailing  slowly  across 
the  water,  coming  steadily  in  shore  near  that  rocky  point 
where  Ronald  had  had  his  first  local  meeting  with  that 
girl  at  the  Hall.  How  Jane  wished  Ronald  had  never 
met  her  at  all !  Jane  was  not  slow  to  reach  the  conclu 
sion  that  a  little  rowboat  was  ferrying  somebody  from 
the  island  to  the  mainland,  and  the  lantern  was  hidden  in 
the  stern  sheets.  In  four  minutes  it  had  passed  behind 
the  curtain  of  a  neighboring  fringe  of  trees,  and  Jane 
saw  it  no  more.  Now  they  might  be  landing  at  the 
Point.  Now  they  might  be  stealthily  parting  for  the 
night  Now,  perhaps  Ronald  would  be  coming  home. 
What  could  he  have  been  doing  at  the  Island  ? 

Fifteen  minutes  was  not  long  to  wait,  now  that  she 
had  been  waiting  so  much  longer.  Fifteen  minutes 
might  bring  him;  twenty  minutes  did.  She  saw  no 
form.  She  heard  no  sound,  but  somebody  coming  up 


A    TURN    IN    THE    TIDE 

from  the  lakeside  must  have  silently  entered  the  door  of 
the  wing,  for,  all  on  a  sudden,  the  light  in  Ronald's  room 
was  turned  low.  Then  the  window  was  softly  opened. 
The  shutters  were  unlatched  and  drawn  in.  The  room 
was  closed  for  the  night. 

Not  two  minutes  later  a  light,  tiny  but  clear  and 
steady,  as  suddenly  shot  into  view  beyond  the  bay,  com 
ing  from  the  topmost  of  that  little  clump  of  frame  build 
ings  at  the  Roost,  a  light  that  glowed  steadily  about  five 
seconds,  was  as  suddenly  snuffed  out,  and  as  suddenly 
shone  again.  And  so,  alternately,  regularly,  with  clock- 
like  precision,  at  about  five-second  intervals,  that  light 
for  full  three  minutes  later  twinkled  in  and  out  across 
the  wave,  and  Jane  watched  with  dilating  eyes,  rising 
slowly  to  her  feet  and  standing  finally  erect  as  she  stared 
through  her  powerful  glass.  Whoever  the  operator, 
whatever  the  purpose,  there  was  but  one  interpretation, 
and  Jane,  who  time  and  again  had  seen  the  swinging 
flame  of  the  army  torch,  the  flare  of  the  Navy  Coston 
lights,  read  unerringly  and  understood.  Someone  at 
the  Island  was  striving  to  attract  the  attention  of  some 
one  on  the  shore.  Someone  in  trouble  was  surely 
signaling  for  aid.  Ronald  at  last  was  home,  and  Ronald 
should  know.  For  the  second  time,  late  that  night,  she 
left  her  chamber  and  sped  on  tiptoe  through  the  dark 
stairway,  through  the  dark  room  and  hall  below,  until, 
breathless,  she  reached  his  door.  It  stood  wide  open 
and  a  bright  light  shone  into  the  little  corridor,  though 


248  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

the  window  had  been  dark  but  the  moment  before. 
Timidly  and  in  low  tone  she  called  his  name,  but  there 
came  no  answer,  and  she  stepped  within.  There  stood 
the  lamp  upon  the  shelf,  bright  burning  as  when  last  she 
saw  it,  but  curtain  and  shade  were  both  tight  closed. 
There  stood  the  wardrobe,  open  as  she  had  left  it,  but 
on  the  back  of  a  chair  in  front  of  it  was  thrown  a  civilian 
sackcoat  Ronald  had  been  wearing  earlier  in  the  night. 
There  on  the  table  lay  her  scribbled  lines,  not  where  she 
had  left  them,  but  to  one  side.  There  on  the  table  where 
she  had  left  the  note  now  lay  Ronald's  army  revolver,  its 
cylinder  removed  and  missing,  and  then — a  click  at  the 
latch  of  the  little  side  door,  a  quick,  light  step  in  the 
passage,  a  sudden  halt  at  the  threshold  and  there,  hatless, 
coatless,  in  slippered  feet  and  gazing  at  her  with  startled 
eyes  and  with  pallid  face  stood  her  brother — the  missing 
cylinder  in  the  powder-stained  ringers  of  his  right  hand. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE 

OLD  DUGGAN,  night  watchman  and  deputy 
janitor  of  the  "  Co-Educational,"  had  of  late 
been  having  some  strange  experiences.  Student 
pranks  he  knew  of  old  and  had  often  been  a  victim. 
Girlish  frolics  in  the  form  of  pillow  rights  and  hair- 
comb  serenades  he  had  sometimes  heard,  but  never  seen. 
Surreptitious  suppers,  hoisted  to  upper  windows  from 
the  hands  of  lavish  classmates  of  the  sterner  sex,  he  had 
occasionally  trailed,  too  late  either  to  seize  the  supplies 
or  the  source  thereof.  The  Co-Eds  declared  he  was  too 
soft-hearted  to  do  either.  Once  he  had  broken  up  a 
"  horse  riddle  "  party,  and  also  the  fiddle,  but  that  was 
because  the  instrument  was  productive  of  vile  and  dis 
cordant  noises.  Duggan  had  never  yet  arrested  the  per 
formers  in  a  nocturnal  musicale  where  the  resultant 
melody  was  sweet  and  harmonious.  The  President, 
indeed,  had  accused  him  of  unbecoming  laxity  in  the 
performance  of  his  duty,  for  the  President  had  no  ear 
for  music.  The  matron  had  reported  him  for  aiding 
and  abetting  in  smuggling  contraband  cookies,  caramels 
and  chocolate  creams,  and  a  Scotch  verdict  was  the  sole 
result.  In  blocking  any  case  of  malicious  mischief  Dug 
gan  was  commendably  prompt  and  zealous,  but  in  deal- 

249 


250  THE    MEDAL   OF    HONOR 

ing  with  the  student  body  in  minor  malefactions  th«  old 
Irishman  was  imbecility  itself. 

When,  therefore,  he  was  called  to  "  attend  the  Presi 
dent," — the  invariable  formula  in  which  the  President's 
Mercury  conveyed  that  information, — and  asked  if  he 
had  seen  or  heard  anything  of  a  midnight  prowler  under 
neath  the  west  windows  of  Clifton  Hall,  Duggan,  think 
ing  it  only  another  case  of  chocolate  creams,  said  no, 
and  was  startled  by  the  vehemence  of  the  President's 
next  remark :  "  Then  you  have  been  asleep  or  in  collu 
sion.  If  he  appears  again  and  you  fail  to  apprehend  him, 
I'll  nominate  your  successor  to  the  Board  of  Trustees." 

It  seems  the  matron  was  the  informant  or  complain 
ant.  She  said  that  not  only  had  a  man  been  seen  two 
nights  in  succession,  and  just  after  twelve,  peering  up 
at  the  windows  on  the  west  side,  but  he  had  dared  to 
attempt  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  occupants  by  throw 
ing  pebbles  up  at  the  windows.  What  Duggan  did  not 
know  was  that  when  the  matron  was  cross-examined  as 
to  this  she  amended  her  statement  by  saying  "  a  "  win 
dow.  Being  further  questioned,  the  matron  reluctantly 
said  it  was  Miss  Hoyt's  window,  for,  in  common  with 
many  others,  both  teachers  and  students,  the  matron  had 
found  herself  more  and  more  attracted  to  Miss  Hoyt, 
and  this  in  spite  of  the  rumors  about  those  letters,  the 
night  meeting  with  the  unknown,  and  the  episode  of  the 
west  grove. 

Then  the  President  gave  instructions  that  Miss  Hoyt 


THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE       251 

should  temporarily  be  moved  to  another  room,  and  that 
Miss  Hinton,  a  self-reliant  amazon  who  had  grown  with 
the  college  from  its  infancy,  should  occupy  Miss  Hoyt's ; 
and  the  matron,  with  some  misgiving  as  to  the  result, 
communicated  the  President's  wishes  to  those  most  con 
cerned.  Miss  Hoyt  expressed  no  objection.  She  was 
still,  possibly,  too  ill  in  mind  and  body  to  be  anything 
but  inert.  Miss  Hinton,  however,  behaved  with  her 
accustomed  spirit.  She  would  go  on  watch,  she  said, 
whenever  the  President  desired.  She  would  sleep,  how 
ever,  only  in  the  room  she  had  been  so  long  accustomed 
to  consider  her  own.  Irreverent  Co-Eds  were  wont  to 
refer  to  that  as  the  "  Lair,"  and  sometimes,  it  must  be 
owned,  to  the  occupant  herself  by  the  same  quadliteral 
with  its  vowels  reversed.  The  young  are  prone  to  at 
tribute  to  their  monitors  unseemly  traits,  to  which  they 
themselves  would  doubtless  plead  not  guilty. 

Then  Duggan  had  been  called  into  conference.  The 
matron  was  the  de  jure  head  of  Clifton  Hall,  Miss  Hin 
ton,  by  reason  of  an  aggressive  personality  and  many 
years  of  service,  the  de  facto.  The  Trustees  looked  to 
the  former  for  the  maintenance  of  proper  discipline  in 
Hall :  the  President's  dependence  was  on  the  latter.  The 
matron  was  affable:  the  maiden  austere.  By  their 
exuberant  flock,  and  in  spite  of  her  duties,  the  matron 
was  beloved:  the  maiden,  in  spite  of  her  many  virtues, 
belittled,  if  not  bedeviled.  And  here  came  delicious  and 
not-to-be-neglected  opportunity. 


THE   MEDAL   OF   HONOR 

He  would  be  an  unwise  man  who  would  imagine  that  a 
bevy  of  bright-eyed  Western  girls  could  be  blinded  to 
the  fact  that  there  was  something  odd  in  the  sudden  ex 
change  of  quarters  between  Miss  Hinton  and  Miss  Hoyt. 
Once  sure  of  the  fact,  they  were  soon  as  sure  of  the  cause, 
and  acted  accordingly. 

Now,  the  President  had  told  Duggan  to  have  two  stout 
men  to  aid  him.  He  had  settled  in  his  own  mind  on  the 
identity  of  the  night  prowler,  and  was  now  bent  on  prov 
ing  his  point.  The  girls  of  Clifton,  sympathizing  natur 
ally  with  the  sighing  lover  who  would  come  serenading 
under  his  lady's  window,  could  not  be  induced  to  look 
upon  the  improper  proceeding  in  the  proper  light.  There 
were  dozens  of  eager,  adventurous  young  spirits  among 
their  chums  and  classmates  of  the  battalion,  and  not  a 
few  even  among  the  supposedly  more  staid  young  men  of 
the  senior  and  junior  classes.  There  were  hurried,  merry, 
mischievous  conferences  about  the  halls  and  corridors  of 
the  college  buildings.  There  were  plots  and  projects  un 
speakable.  Not  one  of  their  number  would  do  anything 
to  hurt  old  Duggan.  Not  one  of  their  number  could  resist 
the  temptation,  however,  to  have  fun  with  him,  especially 
if  in  so  doing  they  could  exasperate  Miss  Hinton.  Given 
these  conditions,  anyone  who  knows  anything  of  college 
boys  and  college  girls  needs  no  enlargement  on  the  fact 
that  Duggan  was  having  some  novel  and  strange  experi 
ences.  Moreover,  Miss  Hinton  was  having  what  our 
latter-day  saints,  college  girls  of  this  decade,  would  prob- 


THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE      253 

ably  term  the  "  time  of  her  life."  Never  before  had  she 
known  what  it  was  to  have  a  man  coming  sighing  or  sing 
ing  under  her  window.  Now,  she  had  more  than  either 
she  or  Duggan  could  begin  to  account  for.  Where  the 
President  had  prepared  her  to  look  for  one  and  to  mark 
him  well,  she  looked  upon  one  after  another  whom  she 
couldn't  mark  at  all, — whom  Duggan  and  his  deputies 
chased  in  vain, — who  led  the  swearing  old  Celt  a  lively 
dance  in  the  darkness,  and  when  at  last  a  capture  was 
made  it  turned  out  to  be  a  vivacious  Sophomore  who 
swore  he  hadn't  been  nearer  the  Hall  than  the  avenue 
gate.  Then  sounds  of  half-suppressed  giggling  at  neigh 
boring  windows  admonished  Miss  Hinton  that  the  girls 
were  making  game  of  her.  Then,  oh,  gruesome  sight! 
the  straw-stuffed  effigy  of  a  man  was  lowered  from  a  cor 
nice  of  Clifton  Hall  just  at  dawn  of  a  frosty  morning  and 
hung  suspended  in  full  view,  close  to  the  casement  of  "  my 
lady's  chamber," — the  Lair, — yet  not  so  close  as  at  that 
hour  to  attract  attention  from  within.  And  the  first  thing 
Miss  Hinton  knew  of  it  was  when  the  bell  was  sounding 
\for  morning  prayers  and  there  was  a  gale  of  delighted 
/whisperings  and  bubbling  merriment  in  the  corridors  and 
a  banging  of  windows,  and  then  sympathetic,  yet  mascu 
line,  shouts  below.  Soldier  students  on  the  way  to  the 
early — the  special — drill  had  caught  sight  of  the  supposed 
suicide,  and  their  amaze  was  prodigious  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  half  their  number,  perhaps,  were  particeps  crim- 
inis.  A  knock  at  the  door  and  a  demure  voice  calling 


254  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Miss  Hinton  gave  the  first  startling  intimation  of  "  A  man 
at  your  window !  " 

That  day  it  began  to  dawn  on  the  President  and  Miss 
Hinton  that  what  had  begun  in  mystery  was  drifting  into 
broad  burlesque.  Duggan  and  the  dogs  of  war  were 
called  off  and,  barring  the  imprint  of  slender,  slippered 
feet,  and  many  of  these,  in  a  dusty  garret  about  the  scuttle 
stairs,  and  one  find  by  Duggan  close  to  the  west  front  of 
Clifton  Hall,  nothing  was  developed  that  threw  any  light 
on  the  affair.  Even  that  find  Duggan  kept  to  himself 
as  much  as  twelve  hours  until  he  could  see  Captain  Fane. 
It  was  a  stone,  but  little  bigger  than  a  thimble,  to  which 
was  attached  half  a  yard  of  fine  fish  line,  at  the  end  of 
which  was  a  tiny  roll  of  stiff  paper,  which  Duggan  had 
opened.  A  few  words  were  penciled  on  the  inside : 

He  has  been  here  and  I've  got  to  go.  Drop  every  cent  you 
can  spare. 

The  rest  was  a  clipping  from  a  late  Chicago  paper7 

ARMY  OFFICER  MISSING 

Officials  at  Division  Headquarters,  while  maintaining  the 
utmost  secrecy  and  professing  to  feel  no  alarm,  are  still  unable 
to  account  for  Major  J.  E.  Piggott,  who  has  been  missing  from 
his  lodgings  as  much  as  ten  days.  The  major  came  to  Chicago 
on  extended  leave  from  Fort  Colville  in  the  far  Northwest. 
He  did  not,  as  is  customary,  report  his  arrival  at  General  Sheri 
dan's  Headquarters,  but  was  recognized  on  the  street  by  Police 
Officer  Carney,  a  discharged  soldier  who  had  known  him  in 


THE    MAJOR   MEETS    HIS    FATE      255 

Arizona,  and  who  gave  important  information  when,  a  day  or 
two  later,  it  transpired  that  Butler  &  Schack,  the  well-known 
lawyers,  were  in  search  of  him  and  had  been  persistent  in  their 
inquiries  at  Headquarters.  It  is  learned  from  his  landlady,  an 
estimable  widow  who  owns  the  premises  No.  107  Seneca  Street, 
North  Side,  that  the  major  left  suddenly  and  in  evident  haste, 
taking  only  a  valise  with  him;  that  several  gentlemen  had 
called  several  times  to  see  him,  and  that  after  he  had  been 
gone  three  days  or  so  officers  came  from  General  Sheridan 
and  searched  his  room.  Fears  are  entertained  that  the  major 
has  taken  his  own  life,  as  Mr.  Butler,  of  the  firm,  admits  that 
they  were  acting  for  his  wife  to  whom  the  Courts  had  awarded 
and  ordered  paid  the  sum  of  two  hundred  dollars  a  month, 
and  the  major  had  long  been  in  default. 

The  military  authorities  have  taken  charge  of  his  room  and 
belongings,  and  further  information  is  refused.  Enough  is 
known,  however,  to  warrant  the  assertion  that,  should  he  not 
have  made  way  with  himself,  he  must  face  court-martial  when 
he  comes  to  the  surface  again.  Officers  at  Headquarters  profess 
to  know  where  he  went  from  here,  scoff  at  the  theory  of  suicide 
and  say  that  he  will  turn  up  again  in  the  near  future.  Mean 
time  developments  are  awaited  with  interest. 

This  clipping  did  honest  Duggan  lay,  with  the  sling 
and  the  stone,  before  Captain  Fane  early  in  the  morning 
after  he  found  them,  half  covered  by  dry  leaves,  under 
neath  the  window  that  had  been  Miss  Hoyt's,  and  Duggan 
was  puzzled  at  the  young  officer's  reception  thereof.  He 
looked  sharply  up  at  the  Irishman.  "  Why  do  you  give 
me  this  ?  "  said  he.  "  I  have — had  seen  it  before." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,  sir.     I  thought  perhaps  you  could 


256  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

understand  it,  sir/'  said  Duggan  civilly,  "  especially  as 
-that  dom  prowler — that  wasn't  the  one  they  expected  to 
find — might  have  dropped  it.  You  see  what  he's  written." 

Fane  had  not  seen  what  he  had  written,  but  eagerly 
took  the  paper  scrawl ;  stared  at  it ;  studied  it ;  then,  with 
utter  and  undisguised  astonishment,  accosted  the  janitor. 

"  Do  you  mean  these  were  done  up  together,  and  so 
found,  under  Miss  Hoyt's  window?" 

"  Exactly  so,  sir,"  said  Duggan.  "  I  was  takin'  them 
to  the  President,  sir,  but  I  thought  perhaps  as  an  army 
man  was  mentioned  you'd  like  to  know  about  it,  and  then, 

perhaps "  And  Duggan  gulped,  and  halted  lamely. 

He  hated  to  go  near  the  President  of  late.  The  ascetic 
scholar  had  been  growing  irascible — he  had  always  been 
unsympathetic  in  manner — and  Duggan  found  it  cheaper 
to  keep  out  of  the  President's  way.  If  he  had  to  see  the 
Doctor  the  more  he  could  tell  about  this  find  the  less 
the  Doctor  would  have  to  scold.  For  a  moment  Fane's 
face  was  pale  and  perplexed.  Then  he  looked  the  old 
Irishman  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"  You  know  nothing  more  of  this,  on  your  word, 
Duggan?" 

"  On  my  wurrud,  sir,"  said  Duggan. 

"  And  you  have  no  idea — no  suspicion — who  it  was  that 
has  been — night  prowling — there  at  the  Hall?  " 

Duggan  shifted  a  foot  and  faltered,  uneasily.  "  Among 
the  byes,  sir?  "  he  asked.  "  I  don't  think  it  was  them— 
leastwise — at  first." 


THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE       257 

"  Then  what  have  you  seen  ?  What  have  you  heard  ? 
Who  is  suspected  ?  " 

"  God  knows,  sir — barrin'  the  President  '11  tell  ye.  It's 
not  fur  the  likes  o'  me."  And  in  so  saying  Duggan  man 
aged  to  open  Fane's  eyes  to  the  nature  of  the  confidential 
instructions  he  had  received  and  to  the  probable  cause  of 
the  enlistment  of  the  two  "  bulldogs."  Fane  stood  aghast 
and  amazed,  but  he  would  ask  nothing  further  of  the 
man.  He  now  would  seek  the  master. 

It  was  then  barely  eight  o'clock,  and  by  nine,  ordinarily, 
special  drill  was  over  and  the  President  was  to  be  found 
at  chapel.  Sharp  at  the  hour  Fane  dismissed  his  squads 
and  started  for  the  avenue.  It  was  his  half-defined  pur 
pose  to  meet  the  Doctor  as  he  came  forth  from  the  brief 
service  with  which  it  was  the  custom  to  begin  the  busy 
hours  of  the  collegiate  day.  It  was  but  a  third  of  a  mile 
from  the  barnlike  old  gymnasium  to  the  beautiful  gothic 
chapel,  and  Fane  went  at  speed,  yet  was  surprised  to  find 
students  and  teachers  coming  away  from  the  stately  en 
trance  full  ten  minutes  before  the  usual  time.  "  Is  the 
President  there?  "  he  asked  a  junior  whom  he  chanced  to 
know,  and  the  reply  was  still  more  of  a  surprise.  The 
President  had  come  and  gone  without  the  heart  to  heart, 
ten-minute  talk  with  which  he  so  often  favored  his  classes. 
"  He  came  sir ;  asked  Professor  Lyman  to  read  prayers, 
and  almost  immediately  drove  away.  Professor  Beer- 
bohm  was  with  him  in  a  carriage." 

Five  minutes  later,  and  as  Fane  hurried  on  homeward, 


258  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

his  mind  a  whirl  of  conflicting  thought  and  emotion,  he 
saw  his  sister  coming  toward  him  through  the  bare- 
limbed,  desolate  grove, — the  sister  who  had  surprised  him 
in  the  dead  hours  of  the  night  by  her  sudden  appearance 
at  his  room, — the  sister  whose  eyes  inquired,  though  her 
lips  would  not,  the  use  to  which  he  had  evidently  put  his 
revolver.  But,  though  her  eyes  asked  and  her  tongue 
refrained  he  had  offered  no  explanation;  he  had  chided 
her  for  being  up  at  such  an  hour ;  he  had  resented  it  that 
she  seemed  to  be  keeping  watch  on  him ;  he  had,  not  too 
gently,  too  kindly,  told  her  he  knew  just  why  there  had 
been  a  caller  at  his  window ;  he  had  in  going  simply  antici 
pated  what  that  caller  had  probably  to  tell.  It  was  one  of 
his  own  trusted  officers,  he  said,  who,  with  others,  had 
agreed  to  keep  track  of  a  certain  lawless  element  and  give 
him  warning  of  suspicious  actions,  looking  to  genuine 
depredations  at  the  "  gym."  He  had  received  earlier 
warning  and  had  gone.  He  would  tell  her  more  about  it 
when  he  knew  more,  and  now  wished  to  snatch  what  sleep 
he  could  before  the  coming  of  the  day.  She  had  left  him 
and  gone  her  way,  uncomplaining,  unrebuking,  for  she 
was  still  tortured  by  the  memory  of  her  one  act  of  spying. 
She  could  not  risk  offending  Ron,  and  yet  she  left  him 
with  vague  distress,  with  dissatisfaction,  even  dread,  eat 
ing  at  her  heart,  and  now  nearly  an  hour  before  her  own 
class  work  began  this  day  she  was  hurrying  forth  to  find 
him  that  she  might  tell  him  of  something  new,  something 
alarming,  and  she  met  him  almost  at  the  very  spot  where 


THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE       259 

she  and  he  had  seen  that  other  meeting,  that  night  con 
ference  that  ended  so  suddenly  and  strangely,  that  meet 
ing  to  which  never  since  had  he  even  remotely  referred. 

She  saw  how  pale  and  grave  and  stern  he  looked,  and 
knew  with  her  keen  intuition  that  there  was  some  new 
trouble,  and  that  what  she  had  to  tell  would  only  add  to  it, 
but  her  tidings  were  of  such  a  nature  she  felt  that  Ron 
must  know  at  once  and  so  at  once  she  began,  looking  with 
such  depth  of  love  and  anxiety  into  his  careworn  face : 

"  Ron,  I  have  hurried  to  meet  you  and  tell  you  before 
you  could  get  home.  Such  a  strange  thing!  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  or  think  of  it,  but  soon  after  you  went 
up  to  drill  this  morning,  before  I  was  dressed,  I  heard 
Dr.  Parsons's  voice  at  the  door.  He  asked  for  Mrs. 
Jamieson  and  she  was  only  just  up,  and  he  took  her  into 
the  little  side  yard  right  under  my  window,  almost  under 
yours,  and  there — I  couldn't  help  hearing, — he  was  talk 
ing,  questioning,  about  you.  She  told  me  everything 
later,  for  I  frankly  told  her  I  had  heard  the  first  part  of 
their  talk.  He  asked  her  what  hour  you  went  out,  what 
hour  you  came  home  last  night,  whether  anyone  came  for 
you,  and  how  late  your  light  was  burning.  She  said  she 
never  saw  him  so  excited,  so  insistent.  She  said  he  asked 
if  any  letters  had  been  brought  to  her  for  you,  or  any 
messages  left,  and  whether  you  ever  had  a  boat  and  went 
out  on  the  lake  at  night.  He  asked  her  if  she  saw  you 
last  night,  and  how  you  were  dressed.  He  acted,  she  said, 
'  like  he  wanted  to  go  in  and  search  the  room  and  ward- 


260  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

robe,'  and  Mrs.  Jamieson  couldn't  listen  to  that.     Ron, 
what  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 

And  here,  in  spite  of  her  effort,  poor,  brave,  loyal,  lov 
ing,  yet  sorely  troubled  Jane  felt  the  sobs  rising  uncon 
trollably,  and  he  saw  it  and  should  have  sought  to  soothe 
and  comfort,  but  his  heart  was  raging  now.  Between 
what  he  had  seen  for  himself,  what  he  had  heard  from 
certain  of  his  sturdy  followers  in  the  battalion,  what  he 
had  dragged  from  poor,  bedeviled  Duggan,  and  what 
Jane  was  telling  him,  his  soul  was  up  in  arms,  in  a  fury 
of  wrath  against  this  strange,  austere,  ice-hearted  man, 
this  arch  spy  and  scandal  brewer,  for  so  in  his  blind  rage 
the  venerable  scholar  seemed  to  this  hot-blooded  young 
soldier. 

For  the  moment  Fane  could  only  think  of  the  indignity 
to  which  he  was  subjected,  believing  it  all  an  outcome  of 
the  recent  demonstrations  at  Clifton  Hall,  and  never 
dreaming,  as  poor  Jane  was  dreaming,  of  the  possibility 
of  something  far  more  dread,  some-thing  that  those  pow 
der-blackened  fingers  had  d  to  her  hours  before, 
something  that  in  his  intense  pursuit  of  another  cine  he 
had  never  stopped  to  consider.  But  it  was  destined  to 
confront  him,  and  with  crushing  force. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?"  was  the  rjnestion  that  came 
!y  from  his  lips.     "  Fve  been  hunting  for  him.     I 
'o  find  him." 

"Oli,  Konald,  i)'/  .—not   in  your  i 

Wait !    Come  back  with  me  and  let  me  tell  you— what  you 


T11K    MA.KW    MKKTS    HIS    FATK 

wouldn't  listen  to  last  night  I  heard  he  had  -one  to 
town— he  and  Professor  Beerbohm,  Von  can't  see  him 
now,  and  yon  should  know  what  1  know  before  von  see 

hini  at  all.  Tome  with  me,  1  want  to  show  you^  And 
so  she  led  him  and  held  him.  listening,  dull  and  indifferent 
at  first,  then  in  suddenly  aroused  and  vehement  interest, 
for  now  at  last  he  heard  of  the  adjutant's  call,  drummed 
on  his  window  pane,  a  call  he  knew  was  unknown  to 
nine  out  of  ten  of  his  pupils  and  probably  unfamiliar  to 

all. 

Now    he   heard   of  the   repeated   signals,  the   repealed 

appearance  of  the  shadow,  and  knew  well  before  Jane 

had  finished  that  this  was  no  one  of  his  battalion  boys, 

this  was  nothing  like  the  signal  agreed  upon  between  him 

and  certain  oi  his  "  trusties  "—student  officers  who  were 

determined  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  of  that 

night  assault,  and  to  protect  their  young  commander  and 

their  college  property  from  future  harm.     Then,  as  Jane 

went  on  with  her  description  and  showed  him  where  the 

shape  had  appeared  in  front  oi  the  Wfag  Md  whew  H  had 

later  stood  at  the  coping  of  the  well,  he  took  to  studying 

t.iiut   footprints  on  the  trampled  turf  at  the  rear  of  the 

wing,  for  the  early  frosts  had  hardened  the  pathway  ;  and 

then,  drawing  him  away,  she  led  him  10  her  own  room. 

and  from  the  windows  pointed  to  llu  •  ihc 

Island,  to  the  sun-glinting  windows  of  the  Roost,  and 

showed  him  the  very  easement  from  whence  had  sti earned 

that  signal  light,  that  five-second  Hash  that  seemed  to 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

peal  direct  to  her  window  and  to  her,  and  then  Fane's 
excitement  became  marked  and  almost  uncontrollable. 

And  even  as  he  stood  there,  thrilling  with  the  realiza 
tion  of  a  new  and  most  important  discovery,  and  longing 
for  Hazlett  and  a  consultation,  there  came  a  tap  at  the 
door — a  servant  with  a  telegram,  which  he  tore  open  and 
read: 

New  developments.  Important.  Meet  me  4:40  to-day. 
Central.  (Signed)  HAZLETT. 

He  handed  it  mechanically  to  Jane,  who,  gazing  from 
the  window,  this  time  toward  the  street,  had  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm.  Three  or  four  passers-by  had  stopped  in 
front  of  the  next  house  and  were  looking  curiously  back. 
Two  men,  under  the  trees  across  the  unpaved  street,  had 
also  halted  and  were  standing  at  gaze.  A  man,  glancing 
hurriedly  up  at  the  window  as  he  passed,  strode  on 
through  the  little  croquet  ground  toward  the  side  door  of 
the  wing.  A  vehicle  of  some  kind  had  drawn  up  in  front 
of  the  house,  the  heads  of  the  horses  just  visible  from  her 
casement.  Another  vehicle,  half  open,  reined  in  at  the 
opposite  curb.  It  was  the  sight  of  this  that  led  her  to 
touch  his  arm.  The  driver  was  glancing  back.  The  oc 
cupants,  two  in  number,  were  peeping  round  the  edge  of 
the  side  curtain  of  the  back  seat,  and  Jane  knew  the  evil 
face  of  the  neannost  at  a  glance.  It  was  Stetson,  senior. 
The  other,  dodging  back  at  sight  of  her,  was  the  son. 

Then  Mrs.  Jamieson's  voice,  and  footsteps  that  were  not 


THE    MAJOR    MEETS    HIS    FATE       263 

Mrs.  Jamieson's,  but  those  of  heavy  men,  were  heard  on 
the  stairs,  and  a  nameless  terror  seized  the  sister's  heart, 
for  in  another  moment  a  silver  star  gleamed  at  the  door 
way,  the  lapel  of  a  coat  thrown  back  purposely  to  permit 
of  its  display.  The  servant-maid  recoiled,  trembling  with 
mingled  embarrassment  and  fright,  and  two  men,  stran 
gers,  entered.  The  foremost  held  a  folded  paper  in  his 
hand,  and  stepped  straight  to  the  young  officer's  side : 

"  Sorry,  sir,  but  this  is  our  warrant  and  we  must  trouble 
you  to  come  with  us,"  he  civilly  said. 

"  And  why  ?  "  asked  Fane,  his  face  as  white  as  the  star. 

"  I've  been  a  soldier  myself,  sir,  and  I  shouldn't  say 
anything  if  I  was  you,  but — Major  Piggott  was  found  on 
the  shore  this  morning  shot, — he's  probably  dead  by  this 
time." 

And  then  they  had  to  turn  to  Jane,  who  had  fallen 
senseless. 


CHAPTER   XI 


THERE  was  no  Fane  to  meet  Captain  Hazlett  as 
he  stepped  from  the  evening  train.  The  plat 
form  was  filled  with  people ;  the  newsboys,  yelp 
ing  like  coyotes,  were  darting  to  and  fro.  "All  about 
the  murdurr! "  was  the  incessant  cry.  The  Evening  Star 
was  selling  at  a  premium,  and  a  stranger,  a  man  in  civil 
ian  dress,  touched  the  captain  on  the  sleeve  and  bade  him 
step  one  side. 

"  We've  found  the  major,  sir,"  he  said,  "  more  dead 
than  alive,  and  they've  arrested  Captain  Fane." 

Hazlett's  heart  stood  still.  Had  he  come  then  all  too 
late?  Had  his  warnings  been  ignored — his  counsel  all 
vain?  Knowing  the  past,  knowing  the  men,  knowing  a 
motive,  was  the  issue  to  be  wondered  at  ?  "  Take  me  to 
him,"  was  all  he  said,  and  entering  the  hack  the  two  were 
driven  away. 

The  evening  was  dark  and  dull.  The  wind  was  whirl 
ing  spiteful  little  dust  clouds  about  the  streets.  Here  and 
there,  at  the  corners  and  about  the  doorways  of  shops  and 
saloons,  groups  of  men  and  boys  were  gathered,  their 
numbers  increasing  somewhat  as  the  hack  drew  nearer 
to  the  county  buildings,  the  court  house  and  the  jail 


"DARE'S   THE   HOUR  BEFORE   DAWN"     265 

Some  kind  of  investigation  had  already  been  taking  place. 
Sheriff's  officials  were  bustling  about  the  corridors  and 
portico.  Students,  in  battalion  uniform  or  civilian  dress 
were  grouped,  observant  and  almost  silent,  about  the 
walks  and  the  wide  piazza.  A  carriage  containing  two 
college  officials  had  just  driven  away  as  Hazlett's  hack 
rolled  up  to  the  curb.  Some  few  students  saluted  their 
vanishing  superiors,  but  most  of  them  withdrew  no  hand 
from  the  roomy  pockets.  They  gazed  after  them  with 
gloomy  eyes.  The  moment  Captain  Hazlett  stepped  to 
the  sidewalk  the  groups  began  to  close  in,  and  an  under- 
sheriff  came  forward,  inquired  his  name  and  handed  him 
a  dispatch.  It  was  from  Headquarters  in  Chicago.  The 
news  had  reached  the  commanding  general  just  after 
Hazlett  left  his  office.  He  was  enjoined  to  see  Major 
Piggott  as  speedily  as  the  hospital  authorities  would  per 
mit,  for  General  Sheridan  had  been  told  there  was  a 
chance  for  life.  Hazlett  asked  first  to  see  Fane,  and  was 
admitted  to  an  inner  room  where  the  young  officer  was 
for  the  present  secluded,  awaiting  report  of  the  surgeons 
in  care  of  the  stricken  man.  Hazlett's  face  was  grave, 
yet  alight  with  relief  and  confidence  as  he  came  forth  ten 
minutes  later.  Professor  Sharpe  sprang  forward  and 
took  him  by  the  hand : 

"  They  would  not  admit  us,"  said  he,  "  but  Lorimer  and 
I  refuse  to  credit  the  story,  and  we  want  him  and  want 
you  to  know  it.  Of  course,  if  there'd  been  a — a 
fight ?"  he  paused  suggestively. 


266  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

"  There  hasn't  been  a  fight,"  said  Hazlett  bluntly,  "  and 
Ronald  Fane  is  no  more  capable  of  shooting  down  a  fel 
low  man  in  cold  blood  than  you  are  of  stealing." 

"  It's — it's  the  hot  blood  we  feared,  captain,"  answered 
Sharpe,  in  low  tone.  "  He  has  had  one  thing  after  another 
to  exasperate  him  of  late,  and  there  might  have  been 
taunt — insult.  We  hear  they  have  long  been  enemies. 
The  story  is  all  over  town  now." 

"  Drive  with  me  to  the  hospital,  will  you  ?  "  asked  Haz 
lett.  "  I  must  get  there  at  once,"  and  he  bundled  them  in, 
Sharpe  and  Lorimer  both.  "  Now,  tell  me  all  you  can," 
he  said,  as  swiftly  they  drove  away. 

And  so,  in  part  at  least,  driving  to  and  returning  from 
the  mile  away  retreat  where  the  unconscious  victim  lay 
hovering  still  'twixt  life  and  death,  the  men  of  books  and 
learning  told  the  man  of  action  their  tale  of  trouble.  A 
strange  web  indeed  of  strong,  though  circumstantial,  evi 
dence  was  that  they  spread  before  their  hearer,  who  bowed 
his  head  in  silent,  sorrowful  acceptance,  as  point  after 
point  was  made ;  yet,  when  all  was  said  and  done,  turned 
sturdily  to  the  main  issue  and  stood  by  his  original  ver 
dict.  "  I  still  believe  it  can  all  be  explained,"  said  he.  "  I 
still  hold  him  innocent." 

Briefly,  their  stories  were  brought  down  to  this :  Pro 
fessor  Beerbohm  was  the  first  to  direct  suspicion  to  Fane, 
— directing  it  even  before  the  deed.  Beerbohm  had  had 
to  make  his  peace  with  the  President  for  that  visit  to  the 
Stetsons.  Beerbohm  had  confided  to  the  President  that 


"DARK'S   THE   HOUR   BEFORE   DAWN"     267 

the  stranger  was  a  Major  Piggott,  a  near  relative  of  the 
man  they  knew  as  Stetson.  Piggott  had  come  here  to  see 
his  long  lost  kinsman,  and  yet  had  had  to  ask  that  it  be 
kept  a  secret,  because,  as  he  now  found,  Lieutenant  Fane 
was  at  the  college.  Lieutenant  Fane  had  served  under 
his  command  in  Arizona,  and  Lieutenant  Fane,  smarting 
under  deserved  censure  for  his  misbehavior  on  campaign, 
had  sworn  to  get  even  with  Major  Piggott;  had  even 
threatened  his  life.  Fane's  friends  in  the  army  had  done 
their  best  to  get  Piggott  into  trouble,  but  Piggott  had  been 
sustained  by  the  War  Department  and  others  in  authority. 
Fane's  friends  were  forced  to  give  up  the  fight,  but  Fane 
swore  he  would  follow  it  to  the  bitter  end  and  would 
"  square  "  sooner  or  later  with  the  major  if  it  cost  him 
his  commission.  It  was  arranged  that  Stetson  was  to 
take  good  care  of  the  major  during  his  brief  stay,  and 
every  precaution  should  be  observed  to  keep  Fane  in 
ignorance  of  the  major's  presence ;  not,  of  course,  on  the 
major's  account,  but  that  of  the  lieutenant,  who  was  noto 
riously  rash,  hot-headed  and  "  might  do  something  to 
bring  scandal  or  disgrace  upon  the  army  and  the  college," 
"  as  indeed,"  said  Beerbohm,  "  we  know  he  has  narrowly 
escaped  doing  on  several  occasions  here." 

Then,  said  Beerbohm,  Captain  Hazlett  had  come  with 
his  ill-advised  inquiries  (Hazlett,  who  had  been  ordered 
by  General  Sheridan  to  go  to  Groveton  and  see  if  the 
missing  officer  had  been  there,  because  letters  found  in 
Piggott's  room  came  from  Groveton  and  nowhere  else), 


268  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  Beerbohm  reasoned  that  Captain  Hazlett  had  prob 
ably  told  Mr.  Fane  of  his  suspicions.  Fane  was  then 
seen  late  at  night  reconnoitering  the  Stetson  premises  and 
prowling  about  the  college  grounds.  Beerbohm  told  all 
this  to  the  President,  and  got  the  President  worked  up. 
Then  came  Duggan  with  his  story  and  stone,  and  the 
clipping  from  the  Chicago  Carbuncle,  and  finally  the 
gruesome  discovery  of  Major  Piggott's  person,  "  more 
dead  than  alive,"  said  the  two  college  workmen  who  found 
it,  close  to  Cedar  Point  and  not  ten  feet  from  the  water's 
edge.  Then  the  President  who  had  been  investigating 
Fane's  night  comings  and  goings,  told  his  tale  to  the  civil 
officials.  Mr.  Stetson,  who  had  suddenly  reappeared  from 
no  one  knew  where,  was  called  into  conference ;  two  more 
witnesses  were  examined,  and  the  warrant  was  issued 
without  delay. 

The  President's  story,  of  course,  neither  Sharpe,  Haz 
lett  nor  Lorimer  could  expect  as  yet  to  hear.  Duggan's 
story  they  knew.  It  was  through  the  police  they  had 
heard  of  the  strange  tale  of  two  employees  of  the  college 
who  were  later  examined.  One  of  them  had  been  the 
first  to  see  the  half-hiddon  and  unconscious  form  that 
very  morning.  The  other  had  heard  a  vehement  alterca 
tion  late  the  previous  night.  The  latter's  story  had  been 
dragged  out  of  him  "  bit  by  bit,"  said  the  officials,  for  he 
stood  self-convicted  of  a  breach  of  college  regulations 
that  might  cost  him  his  place.  He  was  custodian  at  the 
farm  stable.  Students  had  once  or  twice  made  midnight 


"DARK'S   THE   HOUR   BEFORE   DAWN"     269 

raids ;  had  led  away  certain  mules  and  a  prehistoric  don 
key,  hitching  the  former  to  the  gate  post  of  a  distinguished 
scientist  and  stabling  the  latter  at  Beerbohm's  doorstep. 
The  professors  thus  complimented  saw  no  humor  in  this 
unhallowed  and  suggestive  invasion  of  their  premises 
and  prerogatives.  Scullin,  the  stable  man,  was  bidden 
thereafter  to  remain  all  night  at  his  charge,  and  the  alter 
cation  he  heard  after  one  o'clock  at  night  occurred  away 
over  on  the  lake  shore  near  Cedar  Point.  Scullin  had  been 
to  town  and,  returning,  came  suddenly  round  a  rocky  cliff 
and  heard  these  words  in  furious  tone :  "  You  did  me  the 
meanest,  most  damnable  wrong — you  did  your  best  to 
ruin  me,  and  I  swore  by  God  that  I'd—  And  then  on 

a  sudden  someone  said  "  Hush !  "  There  was  an  instant 
scattering;  a  rowboat  shot  away  from  the  shore;  some 
body  scurried  into  the  bushes ;  someone  else,  a  burly  man, 
apparently  lame  or  rheumatic  or  crippled,  "  kind  o'  stag 
gered  against  a  tree  and  leaned  on  a  little  rustic  bench." 
Scullin  saw  just  enough  of  him  in  the  darkness  to  feel 
more  than  sure  it  was  the  man  found  at  seven  o'clock, 
shot  and  senseless.  Scullin  said  he  half  stopped  and  just 
asked  if  there  was  any  trouble,  and  the  stranger  said  not 
to  bother,  he  had  a  friend  in  the  boat  and  he'd  get  along 
all  right.  And  so  Scullin  went  on  and,  not  ten  minutes 
later,  about  as  he  reached  home,  he  heard  a  shot.  He 
thought  perhaps  there  were  two,  but  he  couldn't  be  sure, 
and  that  was  all  he  knew  about  what  happened  as  he  was 
coming  home. 


270  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

But  the  night  watchman  had  said  Scullin  was  there  at 
the  stables  at  n  115,  so  the  question  was  asked,  What  time 
did  Scullin  go  in  town?  A  little  before  twelve.  Which 
way?  Around  by  the  lake — around  the  way  he  came 
home;  he  couldn't  go  through  the  college  grounds  with 
out  being  seen  by  somebody.  Then  came  the  question, 
Did  Scullin  see  anybody  on  his  way  to  town,  if  so,  where  ? 
Scullin  stumbled  a  bit  and  spoke  with  obvious  distress. 
Well,  it  was  too  dark  to  see  plain,  but  he  heard  someone 
coming,  coming  swiftly,  along  the  lakeside  path  about 
forty  rods  town  side  of  Cedar  Point,  and  so  Scullin  hid  in 
the  shrubbery  until  the  man  went  by.  Could  he  see  him 
then?  Well,  not  distinctly,  but  he  passed  between  Scullin 
and  the  still  surface  of  the  lake,  and  Scullin  couldn't  help 
seeing  the  outline  of  the  figure,  and  he  knew  the  walk — 
everybody  about  the  college  knew  that  walk  by  this  time — 
it  was  Captain  Fane. 

Hazlett  had  been  admitted  to  the  bedside  of  the 
wounded  man  and  recognized  him  at  a  glance.  Piggott 
was  unconscious  still  and  moaning  at  times,  and  the  sur 
geons  were  looking  puzzled.  The  major's  danger  was 
great  they  feared,  and  the  gunshot  wound  was  enough, 
if  not  more  than  enough,  to  bring  sudden  end  to  his 
earthly  career.  "  Yet,"  said  one  of  the  medical  men  to 
Hazlett,  "  there  are  others."  The  major  had  been  struck 
on  the  head  with  a  blunt  instrument.  There  were  bruises, 
severe  ones,  on  the  body,  but,  said  the  doctor,  "  they 
look  a  week  old,"  and  Hazlett  made  instant  note  of  it. 


"DARK'S   THE   HOUR   BEFORE   DAWN" 

Once  again  they  visited  the  quiet  side  street  where  the 
little  army  family  made  their  humble  home,  and  Hazlett 
found  them  in  sorry  plight. .  Mrs.  Fane  was  moaning 
and  prostrate,  Clare  and  her  clergyman  were  minister 
ing  to  her  as  best  they  could,  and  Clare  was  inveighing 
against  Jane,  ordinarily  the  most  helpful  one  of  the 
household,  now  utterly  useless.  Hazlett  had  theories  of 
his  own  as  to  this,  and  asked  if  it  were  possible  to  see  her. 
He  bore  a  message  from  Ronald,  so  Clare  went  to  ask, 
and  presently  called  him  aloft,  and  poor  Jane,  red-eyed 
and  disheveled,  appeared  at  her  doorway,  and  Hazlett 
was  amazed  at  her  prostration.  He  strove  to  reassure 
her.  He  gave  her  Ronald's  brave  words  of  cheer  and 
encouragement,  and,  so  far  from  taking  heart,  she 
seemed  to  cower  and  shrink  and  weep  afresh.  "  Would 
Major  Piggott  die?  "  was  the  one  question  uppermost  in 
her  mind.  If  so — if  so,  what  would  be  Ronald's  fate? 
It  was  all  so  unlike  what  Hazlett  had  been  told  of  Jane 
— all  so  utterly  unlike  what  he  expected  of  her,  that  he 
came  away  distressed  and  troubled,  unable  to  account 
for  her  utter  hoplelessness,  her  lack  of  faith.  It  even 
angered  him  a  bit  against  her,  he  knew  not  why. 

Then  came  the  drive  back  to  the  court  house,  and  the 
final  words  with  Sharpe  and  Lorimer.  Then  another 
brief  conference  with  Fane,  who  was  now  very  quiet 
and  self-controlled.  There  were  two  things  Hazlett  yet 
desired — an  interview  with  the  President,  and  another 
with  Mr.  Stetson,  The  latter  had  been  at  the  hospital, 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

not  in  the  patient's  room,  "  for  fear  of  disturbing  him/' 
he  said,  but  with  the  surgeons  a  few  minutes  to  make 
most  anxious  and  affectionate  inquiries  and  to  urge  that 
nothing  be  left  undone  for  his  kinsman.  But  Mr.  Stet 
son  declined  to  see  Mr.  Hazlett  or  to  hold  converse  with 
anybody  representing  Mr.  Hazlett.  The  district  attor 
ney  and  other  State  officials,  he  said,  had  sealed  his  lips. 
The  President  was  not  at  home — had  gone  round  to  Pro 
fessor  Sharpe's,  and  the  evening  was  far  gone  when 
Hazlett,  following,  trailed  him  thither.  The  President 
was  as  responsive  as  an  icicle,  and  chiefly  concerned 
with  the  effect  all  this  must  have  on  the  good  name  of  the 
college.  He  evidently  wished  to  confer  further  with 
Sharpe,  and  wished  Hazlett  to  go  with  his  mission  all 
unfulfilled.  It  was  while  Hazlett  was  still  pleading  the 
cause  of  his  friend  that  a  light  footfall  was  heard  on  the 
piazza  without,  and  Sharpe,  excusing  himself,  went  to 
the  door.  Both  gentlemen  in  the  parlor  heard  the  words 
with  which  this  late  arrival  greeted  the  master  of  the 
house. 

"  John,  how  can  I  reach  Captain  Hazlett  ?  She  wants 
to  see  him." 

It  was  Mrs.  Sharpe,  who  for  reasons  of  her  own,  had 
hastened  to  Miss  Hoyt  long  hours  before,  had  returned 
to  her  during  the  early  evening,  and  now,  after  ten 
o'clock,  had  come  hurrying  homeward  with  this  inquiry. 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE     NIGHT     OF     FLAME 

A  OTHER  day  and  Mrs.  Hazlett,  summoned  by 
wire,  had  arrived  at  Groveton  and  joined  her 
husband,  who  had  need  of  her.  It  seems  that 
objection  had  been  made  to  Captain  Hazlett 's  visiting  at 
Clifton  Hall,  and  Miss  Hoyt  was  not  yet  well  enough  to 
come  forth.  Indeed,  Miss  Hoyt  had  had  a  relapse ;  was 
decidedly  worse;  had  been  almost  prostrated,  like  Miss 
Fane,  when  the  news  of  this  new  calamity  was,  with  possi 
bly  intentional  abruptness,  made  known  to  her.  And  it 
was  in  this  strange  manner  and  under  these  sad  and 
solemn  circumstances  that  Fane's  gentle  friend  of 
Arizona  days  came  again  into  the  orbit  of  his  life,  and 
saw  with  her  own  eyes  and  heard  with  her  own  ears 
the  four  women  of  whom  he  had  said  so  much  when  the 
year,  now  so  near  its  closing,  was  still  young  and  filled 
with  hope  and  pride  and  rejoicing.  Ah,  how  many 
hours  had  he  spent  in  telling  her  of  the  lady  mother,  and 
handsome  Clare,  and  helpful,  home-loving,  level-headed 
Jane !  How  many  hours,  later,  had  he  spent  in  telling 
,of  Ethel  Hoyt,  his  heroine,  his  fervent  admiration!  Do 
the  best  of  women,  I  wonder,  often  find  a  fellow's  sister 
quite  as  charming  as  he  pictured  her  ?  Do  they  ever  find 

273 


274  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

his  sweetheart  sweet  as  he  had  painted?  Looking  back 
upon  the  social  blunders  of  some  three  score  years,  a  man 
of  many  experiences  once  said :  "  If  you  want  your  wife 
to  like  your  kindred,  or  your  kin  to  like  your  wife,  don't 
let  either  party  know  it." 

A  wise  little  woman  was  Mrs.  Hazlett,  prepared  in  no 
small  degree  for  disenchantment.  Otherwise  she  would 
have  found  it  difficult  to  recognize  in  the  complaining, 
querulous,  elderly  valetudinarian  the  stately  leader  of  gar 
rison  society  as  Roland  had  described  his  mother.  Clare 
came  nearer  to  the  mark  set  by  her  brother,  for  Clare  was 
blooming  in  the  sunshine  of  the  young  rector's  devotions, 
and  reveling  in  the  joy  of  being  envied  by  so  many  maid 
ens  of  the  parish.  Even  the  calamity  that  had  befallen 
the  family  in  Ronald's  arrest,  and  the  chain  of  circum 
stantial  evidence  against  him,  had  not  served  to  cast  her 
down.  If  Tremaine,  in  his  secret  heart,  shared  the  gen 
erally  expressed  belief  in  Ronald's  guilt  he  had  the  sacer 
dotal  wit  to  hide  it.  Clare,  in  her  exuberant  personality, 
towered,  defiant  of  public  opinion.  It  was  in  plain,  prag 
matical  Jane  that  Mrs.  Hazlett  found  her  deepest  disap 
pointment  and  her  inexplicable  mystery.  Jane,  who  by 
all  Ronald's  accounts  should  have  been  the  brave,  help 
ful,  resourceful  daughter  and  sister — Jane,  who  should 
have  been  his  dauntless  champion — Jane,  whom  she 
looked  to  find  stanch,  strong  and  true — Jane  proved  to 
be  the  pessimist  and  the  despairing.  Jane,  said  Mrs.  Haz 
lett  to  her  own  sacred  self,  as  we  found  long  afterwards— 


THE    NIGHT    OF    FLAME  275 

Jane  seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind  that  nothing  on 
earth  could  save  Ronald,  and  that  it  was  her  duty  to  pre 
pare  him,  his  mother  and  his  friends  to  face  the  inevita 
ble.  It  is  ofttimes  our  own  kindred  who  are  most  ready 
to  believe  the  worst.  But  then,  who  on  earth  had  seen 
as  much  as  Jane  had  seen?  Who  began  to  know  what 
Jane  knew? 

It  was  straight  from  a  doleful  hour  with  these,  his  next 
of  kin,  that  Mrs.  Hazlett  went  in  search  of  the  girl  whom 
Ronald  Fane  had  fairly  owned  he  loved,  and  yet  had 
ceased  to  woo.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  had  found  his 
kindred  so  despondent  and  inert  that  the  little  army-bred 
woman  was  taken  by  surprise  in  the  interview  that  fol 
lowed.  Hazlett,  persona  in  grata  to  the  President  and  cer 
tain  of  his  following  in  the  faculty,  could  without  offense 
be  declined  as  a  visitor  to  an  inmate  of  Clifton  Hall,  but 
even  the  President  could  see  no  way  to  deny  the  captain's 
wife.  Beerbohm,  it  is  true,  suggested  that  either  the 
matron  or  mayhap  the  amazonian  Miss  Hinton  should  be 
present  at  the  meeting,  but  the  matron  promptly  begged 
to  be  excused,  Miss  Hinton  as  promptly  placed  herself  at 
the  service  of  the  college,  and  Miss  Hoyt  as  promptly 
declined.  She  had  asked  to  see  Captain  Hazlett  and, 
failing  in  that,  had  determined  to  receive  Mrs.  Hazlett 
personally.  If  this  was  contrary  to  college  tenets  and  tra 
ditions,  said  Miss  Hoyt,  she  tendered  her  resignation  on 
the  spot,  and  just  as  soon  as  her  physician  would  per 
mit—forty-eight  hours  at  the  most— she  would  move  to 


276  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

other  quarters.  From  a  reserved,  reticent,  almost  silent 
young  woman  Miss  Hoyt  had  developed  suddenly  into  a 
maid-of-war,  possessed  of  feverish  energy  and  deter 
mined  purpose.  The  President,  in  the  interests  of  the 
college,  and  belief  that  Miss  Hoyt  knew  much  that  she  had 
not  told,  in  the  company  of  the  matron  and  Miss  Hinton 
had  called  upon  her  as  she  reclined  upon  the  sofa  in  the 
matron's  own  parlor.  It  was  contrary  to  the  physician's 
wishes,  but,  when  the  President  had  a  manifest  duty  to 
perform,  what  were  physicians'  injunctions  to  him?  Col 
lege  tradition  had  it  that  he  once  broke  in  upon  family 
prayers  at  the  dean's  and  called  that  venerable  exalter 
from  his  knees,  and  his  petition  to  the  Throne  of  Grace, 
to  tell  him  the  Trustees  had  turned  down  a  desired  appro 
priation,  and  that  he  must  be  up  and  at  them  without  an 
hour's  delay,  then  left  without  apology  to  either  the 
Almighty  or  the  interrupted.  The  President  desired  Miss 
Hoyt  to  examine  the  tethered  scroll  picked  up  by  Duggan 
underneath  her  window,  and  to  tell  him  the  name  of  the 
wrriter.  Miss  Hoyt  examined  as  desired,  and  declined. 
The  President  then  required  her  to  say  whether  or  no  she 
did  not  know  it  was  written  by  Mr. — er — Captain  Fane, 
albeit  in  a  disguised  hand,  and  Miss  Hoyt,  to  his  per 
plexity,  had  replied  forthwith  and  with  unlooked-for  spirit 
that  that  question  at  least,  despite  its  offensive  character, 
she  could  and  would  answer,  and  then  daringly  added, 
"  purely  out  of  regard  for  Captain  Fane."  Her  answer 
was  that  she  knew  he  was  not  the  writer.  The  President 


THE    NIGHT    OF    FLAME  277 

was  staggered  at  such  unfeminine  contumacy,  but  that 
answer,  and  that  alone,  had  to  suffice.  Miss  Hoyt  declined 
further  conference.  The  President  left  the  Hall  with  no 
more  information  than  when  he  came,  and  yet  left  it  no 
little  wiser. 

Miss  Hoyt's  color,  temper  and  temperature  were,  all 
three,  some  degrees  above  normal  when  Mrs.  Hazlett  was 
announced,  and,  though  these  individual  weather  indica 
tions  were  all  for  storm,  the  matron  urged  postponement 
of  the  interview  to  unheeding  ears.  Miss  Hoyt  would 
see  Mrs.  Hazlett  at  once,  and  would  see  her — alone.  Mrs. 
Hazlett,  thinking  to  meet  a  semi-camphorated  invalid, 
found  a  fuming  young  woman,  with  flaming  cheeks  and 
blazing  eyes,  up  and  pacing  the  Persian  rug  like  a  caged 
and  taunted  tigress.  Mrs.  Hazlett  was  fairly  startled  at 
her  vehemence,  and  at  her  beauty.  But  the  girl  came 
straight  forward  with  frankly  outstretched  and  burning 
hands.  "  You  are  the  one  woman  I  need  to  see,"  the 
matron  heard  her  say,  as  she  retired  and  closed  the  door 
and  left  them  to  an  interview  that  was  destined  to  be 
momentous. 

Not  fifteen  minutes  did  Mrs.  Hazlett  remain.  From 
the  public  parlor  across  the  hallway  the  matron  saw  her 
come  forth;  saw  her  turn;  step  once  more  across  the 
threshold ;  take  Ethel  Hoyt  in  her  arms  and  kiss  her  twice, 
thrice;  then  with  brimming  eyes  come  tripping  in  to 
say  a  word  of  thanks  before  going.  Even  in  her  manifest 
haste  and  excitement,  in  something  that  looked  like  sup- 


278  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

pressed,  yet  fervent,  joy,  Mrs.  Hazlett  could  not  forget 
that  courtesy.  Her  handclasp  was  frank  and  cordial,  her 
words  sincere,  as  she  bade  the  matron  adieu  and  besought 
her  permission  to  see  Miss  Hoyt  later  in  the  afternoon 
or  evening  when  she  "  probably  would  have  much  to  tell 
her."  Then  the  waiting  carriage  whirled  her  away  from 
the  front  of  a  stately  fagade,  almost  every  window  of 
which  was  adorned  with  one  or  more  alert  and  wondering 
co-educational  faces,  and  one  of  the  most  rejoicing  women 
in  all  the  wide  West,  even  though  weighted  with  a  pro 
found  secret  she  could  not  yet  communicate  to  another 
soul,  was  speedily  restored  to  the  arms  of  a  soldier  hus 
band  whose  anxious  heart  bounded  instantly  with  new 
born  hope  at  sight  of  her  radiant  eyes. 

"  Be  patient  and  hopeful,"  Hazlett  had  said  to  Fane  but 
an  hour  or  two  before,  when  both  patience  and  hope 
seemed  wearing  out  under  the  burden  of  accumulated 
ills,  and  now  Hazlett  had  to  taste  his  own  medicine,  and 
be  patient,  for  Evelyn,  his  wife,  was  pledged  to  silence 
that  even  he  could  not  break. 

That  night  was  one  not  soon  forgotten  in  the  annals  of 
placid,  sleepy  Groveton.  Somewhere  toward  nine  a 
messenger  went  at  speed  to  the  Stetson  house  to  say  that 
Major  Piggott  was  sinking  fast  and  might  not  live  till 
dawn.  Stetson,  senior,  had  been  at  the  hospital  earlier 
in  the  day,  anxious  and  assiduous,  as  became  a  near  and 
affectionate  relative,  and  the  doctors  then  looked  very 
grave,  yet  bade  him  hope.  Stetson,  junior,,  had  been  sent 


THE    NIGHT    OF    FLAME  279 

that  morning  "  to  spend  a  few  days  with  friends  at  a 
farm "  some  dozen  miles  removed  from  the  scenes  of 
recent  turmoil  and  violence,  where,  added  the  fond  parent, 
it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to  regain  his  accustomed 
strength.  The  family  physician  (Dr.  Gilhooley  of  the 
Flats)  had  urged  this  step,  though  the  son  loudly  and 
dutifully  declared  his  intention  of  standing  by  his  father 
in  all  his  troubles.  In  view  of  later  developments,  how 
ever,  these  seemed  but  mock  heroics.  The  messenger 
found  only  a  servant  at  home,  and  one  who  knew  not,  she 
said,  what  had  become  of  Mr.  Stetson.  He  never  left 
word  where  he  was  going.  The  messenger  had  been  told 
to  bring  Mr.  Stetson  back  with  him.  The  patient  had 
been  muttering  in  his  semi-delirious  state,  and  had  said 
some  things  neither  nurse  nor  doctor  could  quite  under 
stand. 

The  messenger  came  back  without  his  man,  only  to 
be  sent  forth  a  second  time  with  injunctions  to  find  him 
without  fail.  The  doctor  in  charge  also  notified  the  dis 
trict  attorney  and  certain  officials  at  the  county  jail.  It 
was  suggested  that  possibly  they  should  bring  Captain 
Fane  to  the  sufferer's  bedside.  Thrice  the  sinking  man 
had  spoken  that  young  officer's  name.  The  sheriff  wished 
to  know  whether  there  was  the  least  hope  of  return  to 
consciousness  or  reason — whether  the  physicians  con 
sidered  an  ante-mortem  statement  possible — and  before 
the  sheriff  could  be  summoned  again  an  ante-mortem 
statement  of  any  description  became  an  impossibility. 


280  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Practically  alone,  among  strangers,  the  spirit  of  the 
friendless  officer  had  taken  its  flight.  Without  having 
regained  consciousness,  Major  Piggott  had  passed  away. 
As  "  the  Senator  "  boomed  forth  the  hour  of  twelve, 
Ronald  Fane,  separated  in  turn  from  his  own  kith  and 
kin,  stood  behind  the  bars  accused  of,  if  not  yet  officially 
arraigned  for,  willful  murder. 

But  at  twelve  o'clock,  though  the  streets  and  saloons 
had  been  scoured  for  Stetson,  the  quest  had  been  all  in 
vain.  It  was  twelve  and  after — long  after — when  a  boat 
slipped  forth  from  shore  to  try  the  Island.  The  night 
was  dark  and  cold.  The  wind  was  moaning  among  the 
stark  branches  overhead  and  whipping  the  foam  from  the 
crest  of  the  racing  waves.  In  the  shelter  of  the  rocky 
cliffs  there  was  but  little  sea.  Ten  rods  out  from  land, 
however,  the  boat  began  to  toss,  and  its  owner,  the  Ger 
man  boatman,  to  implore  the  others  to  turn  back.  Stetson 
wouldn't  be  coming  back  with  them  in  such  water  if  he 
was  there,  said  he,  and  Stetson's  best  boat  was  no  bigger 
nor  stancher  than  this.  But  his  mate  at  the  oar  and  the 
tillerman  both  said  "  Row  on."  That  tillerman  was  the 
envied  of  his  craft  before  the  dawning  of  another  day. 
He  was  the  correspondent  of  a  Chicago  journal  that' was 
seldom  left  in  the  race  for  news.  He  had  volunteered  for 
this  expedition  with  a  double  object  in  view. 

Drenched  with  spray  and  well-nigh  swamped  they 
managed  to  make  the  boathouse  on  the  northeast,  the  lee 
shore,  of  the  Island,  and  there,  surely  enough,  was  Stet- 


THE    NIGHT    OF   FLAME  281 

son's  little  dinghy,  in  which  he  must  have  sculled  over 
early  in  the  evening  before  the  rising  of  the  gale.  All 
about  "  the  Roost  "  was  darkness.  Leaving  the  shivering 
boatman  at  the  shore,  the  other  two  stumbled  up  the  wind 
ing  pathway  until  they  reached  the  wind-swept  platform 
at  the  crest,  then  groped  their  way  to  the  black  buildings 
beyond.  They  were  wet  to  the  skin,  chilled  to  the  marrow, 
and  in  no  mood  to  mince  matters.  Given  a  Chicago  news- 
gatherer  who  had  been  a  college  all-round  athlete,  and  a 
Groveton  Sophomore  with  a  zest  for  adventure,  and  the 
combination  is  not  easy  to  baffle.  No  answer  being 
vouchsafed  to  vigorous  battering  on  the  door,  accom 
panied  with  stentorian  hails,  the  journalist  found  a  five- 
pound  rock  and  declared  his  intention  of  heaving  it 
through  a  window.  This  brought  somebody  to  the  door 
of  the  deserted  barroom  and  the  Teutonic  challenge 
"Werda?" 

"  Call  Stetson  at  once  and  say  I've  important  news  for 
him,"  said  the  leader.  "  Open  that  door  first  and  let  us 
in.  We're  frozen !  " 

"  Nicht  versteh " 

"  It's  old  Dummy,  the  Dutchman !  "  broke  in  the  Sopho 
more  disgustedly.  "  They  say  Stetson  won't  let  him  learn 
English  so's  to  keep  him  from  blabbing.  7  believe  he  can 
understand  perfectly." 

"  Skip  back  and  bring  up  that  boatman.  He  can  inter 
pret.  Then  there  won't  be  any  excuse,"  and  the  journalist 
swore  savagely  between  his  chattering  teeth  as  the  student 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

disappeared  in  the  thick  darkness.  He  was  gone  some 
minutes.  It  was  hard  work  lugging  that  benumbed  and 
dispirited  Teuton  up  the  rocks.  The  promise  of  possible 
schnapps  at  "  the  Roost "  failed  to  stimulate.  Traeumer 
said  he  knew  better.  Stetson  never  left  liquor  on  the 
Island  after  the  close  of  the  season  for  fear  old  Schwartz- 
kopf  would  get  drunk  and  set  fire  to  the  place.  He  had 
fired  it  once  last  winter,  and  his  big  Dutch  wife  was  all 
that  saved  it.  But  the  Sophomore  pointed  out  that  Stet 
son  was  there,  and  where  Stetson  abode,  even  temporarily, 
there  was  sure  to  be  whiskey.  They  found  the  journalist 
nearly  frozen,  and  entirely  exasperated.  The  custodian 
had  been  deaf  to  either  threat  or  blandishment,  and 
"  Stetson  nicht  hier  "  was  all  he  would  say.  It  might  be 
all  that  he  could  say,  but  the  journalist  didn't  believe  it. 
Then  Traeumer  took  a  hand,  and  shouted  their  ultimatum 
in  furious  low  German,  and  still  the  sturdy  guardian  re 
fused  to  unbar.  Stetson  was  not  there,  had  not  been  there, 
he  declared,  and  he  was  forbidden,  under  pain  of  losing 
his  job,  to  admit  anyone  to  the  buildings  at  night.  Then 
his  wife,  too,  joined  in,  and  jabbered  shrill  protest,  and  all 
the  time  the  waves  were  beating  loud  on  the  stony  beach, 
the  wind  was  whistling  through  the  snapping  branches 
and  screeching  through  knotholes  in  the  ramshackle  out 
buildings,  and  every  now  and  then  assailing  their  ears 
with  low,  unearthly  meanings  as  of  a  dumb  brute  in 
agony.  Or  was  that  the  wind  ?  There  was  something  so 
horribly  uncanny  about  the  sound,  and  there  was  more 


THE    NIGHT    OF    FLAME  283 

sound  of  snapping— and  the  situation  was  getting  un 
bearable. 

"  Open,  or  I'll  smash  the  door !  "  shouted  the  journalist, 
for  the  last  time,  heaving  aloft  a  rock  as  big  as  his  head. 
"  Open,  or  I'll  smash !  "  translated  Traeumer,  and  then — 
something  smashed  of  its  own  accord  around  the  corner — 
around  on  the  lee  side  of  "the  Roost  "—and,  groping 
thither  to  reconnoiter,  the  Sophomore  found  himself 
choking  and  coughing  in  smoke  dense  as  the  darkness, 
pouring  in  volumes  from  a  cracked  cellar  window  and 
driven  by  heat  like  that  of  a  furnace,  and  the  Sophomore's 
voice  went  up  in  a  yell  that  split  through  the  night  like 
the  warning  shriek  of  the  Siren :  "  By  God,  it's  all  afire !  " 
and  from  the  depths  within,  the  moaning  of  some  half- 
strangled  sufferer  changed  to  a  choking,  stifling  cry: 
"Help!  Help!  For  Christ's  sake  help  I" 

And  then  the  journalist  held  his  hand  no  longer.  Crash 
went  the  rock  through  pane  and  screen,  shivering  the 
glazed  panel  to  fragments,  and  giving  instant  way  for  the 
wind.  Split  and  smash  went  another  window  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  then,  all  in  a  second,  a  lurid  flame  burst 
from  the  cellar  gratings  at  three  different  points  on  the 
townward  side.  Up  flew  an  ax  in  the  Sophomore's 
muscled  hand  and,  amidst  shrieks  and  jabberings  from 
within,  the  door  strained  at  bolt  and  hinge  under  the 
repeated  blows,  and  then  something  gave  way  and,  all 
three,  the  invading  rescuers  burst  into  the  barroom,  dimly 
lighted  by  a  single  candle  blinking  through  thick  and 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

blinding  smoke.  Through  an  opposite  door,  screaming 
with  afright,  the  woman  had  gone.  Stumbling  back  from 
a  narrow  hallway,  blind  and  choking,  came  Schwartzkopf 
again.  "  Ach,  Gott!  Herr  Stetson!,  hn  feuer!"  he 
sputtered  in  dismay ;  then,  on  all  fours,  went  floundering 
out  to  the  open  air. 

"  Come  on !  "  cried  the  Chicago-bred  leader.  Fires  to 
him  were  things  of  daily  and  familiar  use.  The  flames 
were  bursting  up  the  cellar  stairway  as  he  rushed,  bent 
nearly  double,  through  the  hall,  the  Sophomore  smother 
ing  at  his  heels.  Guided  by  the  moans  and  imprecations, 
they  smashed  in  a  flimsy  door  to  the  right,  and  the  instant 
it  gave  way,  admitting  the  sweep  of  the  wind,  another 
door  slammed  across  a  narrow  apartment;  a  snap  and 
crinkle  of  glass  told  of  another  window  collapsed  at  the 
touch  of  the  blaze ;  a  fierce  tongue  followed  them  into  the 
room,  hissing  and  searing  as  it  came,  yet  mercifully  light 
ing  their  way,  and  there  on  a  pallet  lay  a  writhing  form 
that,  never  stopping  to  question,  they  seized  and  shoul 
dered 'and  thrust  screaming  in  agony  out  through  the 
quickly  shattered  window,  never  heeding  how  or  where  it 
might  fall  without,  noting  only  that  the  face,  the  form, 
the  weight  were  by  no  means  those  of  Stetson !  And  then, 
their  own  retreat  cut  off  by  the  flames,  they  snatched  open 
the  door  that  had  slammed,  searched  through  the  next 
chamber  for  Stetson,  and  found  nothing  but  rubbish  and 
smoke  and  blistering  heat,  with  tiny  jets  of  fire  curling  in 
from  the  transom,  and  creeping  up  through  every  crack 


THE    NIGHT    OF    FLAME  285 

from  the  cellar  below,  and  then,  with  scorched  feet  and 
smarting  eyes  they  floundered  somehow  into  the  porch 
beyond  and  presently  lay  gasping  on  the  sod  while,  amidst 
the  wailing  of  the  old  German  hausfrau  and  the  mad 
shoutings  and  caperings  of  her  burly  mate,  with  hiss  and 
roar  and  spiteful  snappings  the  flames  tore  wildly  through 
the  cedars  close  at  hand  and  up  the  stairway  of  the  tinder 
box  of  a  tower,  and  all  in  another  minute  "  the  Roost " 
was  one  magnificent  sheet  of  flame,  tossing  shingle  and 
shutter  on  the  wings  of  a  gale  that  sent  them  sailing  far 
out  over  the  red-crested  billows,  lighting  the  skies  for 
leagues  around. 

Then  presently,  though  they  at  the  Island  heard  it  not, 
the  deep-toned  bell  at  the  far-away  court  house  boomed 
loud  on  the  night  in  the  old-fashioned  fire  alarm.  Be 
lated  locomotives  in  the  railway  yards  took  up  the  clamour 
with  shrill-screaming  whistle.  Other  bells  awakened  and 
joined  their  discordant  clanging  to  the  general  uproar, 
and  Groveton  at  large  turned  out  of  bed  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  and  found  the  blazing  embers  of  a  distant  con 
flagration  shooting  toward  them  across  a  mile  of  tum 
bling,  blood-red  surges,  and  threatening  the  municipal 
roofs  and  walls  with  responsive  fire.  For  full  ten  minutes 
there  was  wild  scurry  and  confusion — a  rush  for  hand 
engines,  hose,  wet  blankets  and  ladders — and  then,  almost 
as  swiftly  as  they  rose,  the  fierce,  billowing  flames  sank 
low  in  the  west;  a  dull,  ruddy  glow  succeeded  the  lurid 
light  at  the  Isle ;  and,  as  the  pallid  gleam  of  coming  day 


286  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

appeared  in  the  Orient  sky,  only  a  pungent,  biting,  cedar- 
scented  cloud  of  smoke,  low  drifting,  told  that  all  was 
over  with  Stetson's  Roost,  and  then,  as  the  few  boats  that 
ventured  forth  came  dripping  back  to  the  shore,  the  wild 
rumor  went  round,  too,  that  all  was  over  with  Stetson. 
Separated  though  they  had  been  through  life,  so  far  as 
Groveton  could  judge  and  determine,  therefore,  the  kins 
men  in  death  were  reunited. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CONFUSION    WORSE    CONFOUNDED 

IT  was  another  day  before  the  search  could  be  begun 
for  the  calcined  bones  of  the  supposedly  consumed 
owner  of  "  the  Roost."  It  was  three  days  or  more 
before  the  searchers  came  to  the  conclusion  that  no  human 
being  lost  life  within  those  blazing  walls.  Captain  Hazlett 
had  earlier  expressed  his  doubts,  and  the  journalist  his 
opinions,  on  that  head.  The  Schwartzkopfs,  male  and 
female,  declared  that  Stetson  had  appeared  there  early  the 
previous  evening  just  after  dark,  just  before  the  wind 
arose;  found  it  dangerous  to  attempt  to  go  back  and  so 
determined  to  spend  the  night  at  "  the  Roost,"  one  room 
in  which  was  always  ready  for  him.  Nevertheless,  they 
had  their  instructions  to  admit  nobody,  and  to  deny  at  any 
time  his  presence.  They  had  retired  as  early  as  eight 
o'clock,  leaving  him  smoking  and  reading  in  the  bar.  A 
friend  of  his,  a  sick  gentleman,  they  said,  occupied  the 
adjoining  room.  He  had  been  there  four  or  five  days 
already.  There  had  been  another  gentleman — a  big, 
elderly  gentleman  like  Herr  Stetson — some  days  earlier, 
but  he  had  gone,  oh,  several  days  already,  and  this  gentle 
man  he  had  something  wrong  with  his  leg  and  could  not 
walk  and  was  all  the  time  in  bed — he  was  all  that  was  left 

387 


288  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

except  themselves — and  of  this  man  they  could  tell  next 
to  nothing  except  that  they  were  required  to  cook  some 
thing  for  him  to  eat  three  times  a  day,  and  sometimes  he 
would  not  eat  it,  and  the  doctor  had  been  out  to  see  him. 
No,  they  knew  not  the  doctor's  name.  They  would  not 
believe  Herr  Stetson  had  gone,  despite  their  contrary 
assertions  to  the  visitors,  until  the  fact  was  thoroughly 
established  that  not  only  Stetson's  dinghy,  but  Traeumer's 
boat,  had  either  slipped  the  moorings  or  been  spirited 
away.  The  dinghy,  bottom  up,  was  washed  ashore  at  the 
east  end  of  the  lake  by  dawn  of  the  first  day  to  break  after 
the  fire,  and  Traeumer's  boat  was  encountered  empty, 
tossing  on  the  troubled  waters  a  hundred  yards  from 
shore,  by  a  barge  load  of  daring  young  fellows  pulling 
out  to  the  scene  of  the  fire,  perhaps  twenty  minutes  after 
the  alarm. 

Then  search  was  made  at  Stetson's  home,  and  he  was 
not  there,  and  the  domestics  declared  he  had  not  been 
there.  Then  certain  correspondents  drove  out  to  the 
farm  of  the  friend  twelve  miles  in  the  country,  and  found 
that  young  Stetson,  supposed  to  be  there,  had  left  the 
evening  of  the  fire ;  had  driven  'cross  country  six  miles  to 
a  railway  station,  where  he  had  bought  a  ticket  and  taken 
a  train  for  Chicago.  Then  the  Chicago  journalist,  his 
hands  and  face  still  swathed  in  bandages,  was  seen  by 
Captain  Hazlett  and  a  fellow  newspaper  man,  and  told 
them  something  of  his  views.  Then  a  young  fellow  but 
little  known  in  the  neighborhood  because  he  had  been 


CONFUSION    WORSE    CONFOUNDED       289 

several  years  away,  either  at  sea  or  in  the  army,  came  into 
the  hospital  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  broken- 
legged,  semi-scorched  and  somewhat  scratched  and  muti 
lated  patient  brought  thither  for  treatment  after  the  fire, 
too  crazed  with  pain,  terror  and  fever  even  to  give  his 
name.  Thinking  to  get  information,  the  doctors  admitted 
this  caller,  who  looked  and  was  apparently  satisfied  with  a 
glance,  but  declared  he  did  not  recognize  the  man,  and 
declared  it  with  such  mendacity  of  mien  that  the  doctors 
believed  he  did.  That  night,  late,  Miss  Hoyt,  boarding 
now  at  Jones'  near  the  Jamiesons,  got  a  queer  note  that 
brought  her  with  Mrs.  Hazlett  to  the  hospital  on  the  fol 
lowing  day.  It  said  in  so  many  words :  "  There's  been 
foul  play  at  the  Island.  Your  help  came  too  late.  He 
didn't  get  away  in  time.  Go  and  look  at  the  man  brought 
to  the  hospital  from  Stetson's  Roost." 

All  they  could  see  was  a  bandaged  head  and  form.  The 
hair  was  singed  off,  said  the  attendant,  but  Miss  Hoyt 
took  one  restless,  twitching  hand,  glanced  at  it  just  one 
moment,  and  bathed  it  with  her  tears.  Then  she  knelt  and 
whispered  in  the  sufferer's  unheeding  ear,  and  then  the 
carriage  took  them  to  the  telegraph  office,  whence  dis 
patches  were  sent,  rush,  to  Andrew  Hoyt,  Esq.,  Care 
Brevoort  House,  New  York,  also  to  Captain  Hazlett, 
Recruiting  Office,  Clark  Street,  Chicago,  and  that  night 
the  former,  despite  the  infirmities  of  years,  was  on  his 
way ;  that  night  the  latter  was  again  on  the  spot. 

Three  days  later  a  conference  took  place  at  Groveton, 


290  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

It  followed  close  upon  a  scene  at  the  hospital.  An  elderly 
gentleman,  bent  and  sorrowing,  had  called  in  company 
with  Miss  Hoyt  and  was  taken  to  the  bedside  of  the  still 
unconscious  sufferer,  who  seemed  burning  away  in  fever 
and  delirium.  There  the  elder  bowed  his  head  and  knelt 
in  wordless  sorrow.  There  father  and  daughter  spent 
some  twenty  minutes,  sometimes  mutely  watching  the 
restless  tossing  of  the  patient,  sometimes  murmuring 
words  of  hope  and  comfort  to  each  other,  for  even  Mrs. 
Hazlett  would  not  now  intrude  upon  their  grief.  The 
house  physician  came  at  the  call  of  an  attendant,  and  to 
him,  in  taking  leave,  the  old  man  spoke  briefly.  "  I  have 
rescued  but  little,"  said  he,  "  from  the  wreck  of  what  was 
once  a  large  fortune,  but  I  have  enough  and  to  spare,  and 
I  beg  you  to  command  me  if  money  can  save  this  poor 
boy.  I  beg  you  to  spare  no  expense  for  anything  that  may 
restore  him.  We  shall  be  here  now — to  the  end,  whatever 
it  may  be." 

More  than  this  the  gentleman  did  not  say,  as,  leaning  on 
his  daughter's  arm,  they  took  their  way  into  the  wintry 
sunshine.  Miss  Hoyt  had  moved  to  still  other  quarters  at 
Groveton's  one  hotel  deserving  of  the  name,  and  this  move 
was  made  only  at  the  father's  urgent  plea. 

A  few  hours  after  their  visit  Captain  Hazlett,  in  com 
pany  with  the  sheriff  and  a  member  of  the  local  police 
force,  appeared  and  was  shown  to  the  same  bedside.  His 
visit  had  been  expected  and  arranged  for.  Some  of  the 
face  bandages  had  been  removed,  and  Hazlett  bent  and 


CONFUSION    WORSE    CONFOUNDED       291 

examined  the  pinched  and  still  discolored  features,  then 
rose  and  nodded  affirmatively  as  he  glanced  at  the  sheriff. 

"You  recognize  him,  then?"  asked  the  latter,  in  low 
tone. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  him  as  a  private  trooper  in  the  cavalry  in 
Arizona.  He  was  serving  there  under  the  name  of 
Hayden." 

"After  which — he — deserted?"  asked  the  official. 

"  After  which  he  was  reported  a  deserter." 

The  conference  referred  to  came  later  still.  The  con 
finement  was  telling  seriously  on  the  health  of  Captain 
Fane.  Bail  had  been  tendered  by  Captain  Hazlett,  rein 
forced  by  others,  and  in  any  reasonable  amount,  and  bail 
had  been  refused.  Groveton  had  had  no  such  distinction 
in  the  way  of  crime  in  all  its  previous  history,  and  Grove- 
ton  could  not  let  its  captive  go.  Something,  therefore, 
had  to  be  done,  and  certain  officers  of  the  law  were  called 
into  conference  with  certain  local  lights  of  the  law  to 
listen  to  a  new  phase  of  the  case,  and,  before  this  counsel, 
veiled  and  sorrowing,  yet  calm  and  self-possessed,  her 
aged  father  by  her  side,  appeared  Ethel  Hoyt.  All  that 
passed  was  known,  until  long  after,  only  to  those  few,  and 
these  kept  their  own  counsel,  and  her  confidence. 

On  the  morrow,  it  was  decided,  Miss  Hoyt  should  be 
heard  by  the  district  attorney,  and  by  an  eminent  jurist 
long  a  friend  of  Colonel  West.  With  bowed  head,  weep 
ing,  and  escorted  by  silent,  sympathetic  officials,  she  was 
shown  to  the  waiting  carriage ;  her  father,  tremulous  and 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

sad-faced,  took  a  seat  beside  her,  and  the  counsel's  words 
as  he  closed  the  door  revealed  nothing  of  what  had  taken 
place,  but  something  perhaps  of  what  was  yet  to  come. 
"  Then  I  shall  call  for  you  at  ten — to-morrow." 
But  "  at  ten  to-morrow  "  the  learned  counsel  had  heard 
other  tidings  that  gave  him  pause.  A  "  wire  "  from  Chi 
cago  at  nine  o'clock  had  blanched  his  face  with  conster 
nation,  not  unmixed  with  awe.  It  followed  close  on  the 
heels  of  announcement  to  which  he  listened,  incredulous ; 
then  turned  and  whistled  in  professional,  yet  not  unnat 
ural,  disgust. 

Late  that  previous  evening,  in  the  office  of  the  sheriff 
and  the  presence  of  two  deputies,  at  the  very  moment  that 
Ethel  Hoyt  appeared  before  the  council,  the  prisoner  had 
been  allowed  to  see  his  sister,  Miss  Jeannette  Fane.  She 
had  spent  ten  minutes  clinging  to  his  hand  and  murmuring 
low.  He  was  looking  very  ill,  very  sad,  and  far  from 
hopeful,  and  it  could  not  be  said  that  her  visit  was  doing 
much  to  cheer  him.  Indeed  it  was  he  who  seemed  striving 
to  reassure  and  comfort.  Mother,  she  said,  would  be  with 
him  on  the  morrow,  and  Clare,  with  Mr.  Tremaine,  so 
that  he  should  not  seem  to  be  without  friends  when  called 
to  face  his  accusers.  Finally  it  came  time  for  her  to  go, 
and  the  deputy  respectfully  so  informed  her.  At  the  door 
she  turned,  flung  herself  into  her  brother's  arms  and 
sobbed  brokenly,  hopelessly,  almost  hysterically:  "Oh, 
Ronald,  Ronald !  "  she  cried.  "  If  I  could  only  have  ad- 
vised  you — influenced  you !  "  And  now  at  last  his  pa- 


CONFUSION    WORSE    CONFOUNDED       293 

tience  and  forbearance  seemed  on  the  point  of  giving 
way.  He  held  her  still  close-enfolded  in  his  embrace,  but 
his  tired  eyes  had  flashed  with  sudden  resentment,  his 
lips  compressed,  and  his  voice  in  answering  was  low  and 
stern : 

"  This  is  unworthy  of  you,  Jane,  and  your  father's 
daughter,"  he  said,  "  and  most  unjust  to  me.  Think  of 
what  you  virtually  accuse  me."  And  then  he  kissed  her 
and  sent  her,  still  sobbing  uncontrollably,  to  the  carriage 
awaiting  her  at  the  door.  It  all  made  its  impression  on 
the  sheriff's  people,  even  though  the  words  were  almost 
entirely  inaudible,  and  these  two  were  looking  queerly  at 
each  other  as  they  closed  the  carriage  door  and  were 
about  to  signal  to  the  driver,  when  up  came  Hazlett,  for 
once  in  his  life  displaying  haste  and  excitement. 

"  Is  that  Miss  Fane  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Don't  let  her  go !  I 
have  news "  Then,  following,  came  the  sheriff,  per 
plexed,  perturbed,  evidently  not  too  full  of  gratification, 
yet  bubbling  over  with  ill-suppressed  emotion. 

"  Will  you  come  back,  Miss  Fane  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 
"  I  have  great  news  for  Ronald — and  cannot  even  wait 
for  my  wife  to  join  us.  She  has  gone  home  with  Miss 
Hoyt" 

Dumbly,  wonderingly,  Miss  Fane  obeyed,  and  once 
more  traversed  the  ill-ventilated  corridor,  and  once  again, 
in  the  dingy  little  office,  stood  in  the  presence  of  her  cap 
tive  brother.  With  a  deputy  behind  him,  he  was  seated 
at  the  sheriff's  desk  writing  a  brief  note  before  retiring 


294  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

to  his  cell.  He  looked  up  quickly,  a  light  of  hope  and 
expectation  in  his  eyes  at  sound  of  Hazlett's  footsteps. 
Following  Hazlett  came  the  sheriff,  who  nodded  signifi 
cantly  to  his  assistant  and  the  latter  slowly  and  reluctantly 
turned  and  went  out.  The  limbs  of  the  civil  law  seemed 
somehow  to  find  mournful  comfort  in  standing  sentry 
over  the  military,  and  the  deputy  hated  to  leave  when, 
mayhap,  there  was  something  to  be  learned.  The  sheriff 
closed  the  door,  and  Hazlett  went  straightforward  and  put 
a  trembling  hand  on  the  young  officer's  shoulder. 

"  Ronald,  old  fellow,  it  has  come  out  as  I  thought " 

"  Stetson  ?  Have  they  got  him  ?  "  broke  in  Fane,  rising 
quickly  from  the  desk  and  facing  them;  then  holding 
forth  a  hand  to  Jane. 

"  Stetson  ?  "  queried  Hazlett,  puzzled  and  surprised. 
"  No,  but  they've  got  him — Piggott's  murderer — what 
ever  may  have  been  his  excuse.  It's  Hayden,  the  lad 
whose  life  you  saved  at  Tonto  Pass." 

The  light  that  had  flashed  to  the  prisoner's  eye  began 
to  pale ;  the  faint  color  that  had  swept  to  his  cheek  slowly 
faded  away.  Jane  herself,  who  had  eagerly  hung  upon 
Hazlett's  opening  words,  now,  so  far  from  showing  joy, 
turned  once  more  away  and  sank,  dispirited,  into  a  chair. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Fane  slowly.  "  Surely  he 
never  said  so." 

"  No,  indeed,  but  she  did !  Ethel  Hoyt — his  own  sister, 
Fane — told  us  the  whole  story — his  threats  against  Pig- 
gott,  and  then " 


CONFUSION    WORSE    CONFOUNDED      295 

"  Stop !  "  said  Fane,  holding  up  his  hand.  "  Do  you 
mean  that  she— Ethel— Miss  Hoyt— has  accused  this  dy 
ing  man— of  Piggott's  murder  ?  "  And  Fane's  face  in  its 
wonderment,  in  its  mingling  of  gratitude,  of  secret  joy, 
and  yet  of  incredulity,  was  something  marvelous  to  see. 

"  I  mean  just  that,"  said  Hazlett.  "  She  said  he  owed 
his  life  to  you — had  declared  to  her  his  determination  to 
punish  Piggott,  and  yet  his  fear  of  being  recognized  by 
him — his  purpose  of  shooting  him  if  he  had  to " 

And  here  poor  Jane  covered  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
was  bending  forward,  rocking  miserably  in  her  chair. 
Had  not  she,  too,  well-nigh  denounced  her  own  brother, 
and  a  very  different  kind  of  brother  than  had  Ethel  Hoyt, 
that  weakling,  lying,  incapable  of  speech  or  action,  in  hos 
pital?  Had  not  she — but  there  was  time  for  no  further 
self-accusation.  In  the  midst  of  silence  so  deep  that  one 
could  almost  have  heard  the  drop  of  a  feather,  Ronald 
spoke : 

"  It's  all— impossible !  "  said  he.  "  Whether  his  name 
be  Hoyt  or  Hayden,  that  man  had  nothing  to  do  with  it !  " 

No  wonder  Lawyer  Biggs,  of  counsel  for  the  defense, 
was  disgusted  with  such  a  case  and  such  an  intractable 
client.  No  wonder  he  stared  over  the  dispatch  that  came 
tumbling  almost  on  the  heels  of  this  announcement. 

"  Found  Stetson.  Far  gone,  Del.  Trem.  Tried  shooting. 
What  instructions?" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE      WOMAN     AT     THE     BOTTOM 

THERE  had  been  sudden  hegira  from  Groveton 
to  Chicago  of  prominent  watchers  of  this  now 
celebrated  case.  Thither  sped  Captain  Hazlett, 
Counselor  Biggs  and  one  of  his  brothers  in  the  law. 
Thither  followed  Dr.  Gilhooley  of  the  Flats,  for  Stetson's 
condition  was  pronounced  alarming,  and  Gilhooley's  bill 
for  professional  services,  rendered  to  Stetson's  household 
at  home  or  on  the  Island,  exceeded  the  aggregate  of  most 
all  the  others.  Stetson,  when  found,  was  far  gone  in  drink, 
under  the  roof  of  kindred  spirits — and  dealers  therein — 
well  over  on  the  West  Side.  Stetson,  when  found,  was  in 
no  condition  to  give  account  of  himself  or  his  wander 
ings,  and  the  denizens  of  his  refuge  swore  stoutly  that  he 
had  come  to  them  well  drunk,  and  had  so  remained  until 
the  inevitable  consequences  appeared  and  he  took  to  pistol 
practice  as  a  diversion.  They  had  him  locked  up  in  an 
upper  room,  where  the  police  were  called  on  to  disarm  a 
maniac.  Now,  recognized  by  the  detective  employed  by 
Biggs  and  Hazlett,  he  lay  raging  and  raving  under  the 
care  of  trained  nurses  and  the  guardianship  of  the  law. 
Dr.  Gilhooley  was  informed  that,  despite  his  claim  to  be 
the  patient's  family  physician,  he  could  not  be  allowed 

296 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  BOTTOM        297 

to  intrude.  The  case  was  one  only  specialists  could 
handle.  Dr.  Gilhooley  inquired  for  Stetson,  the  son,  and 
was  properly  shocked  and  scandalized  to  hear  that  that 
young  man  had  vanished,  with  all  the  big  "  wad  "  the 
father  had  had  in  his  possession,  the  very  morning  symp 
toms  of  mental  derangement  appeared.  Then  Gilhooley 
was  ready  to  engage  in  the  pursuit  of  the  son,  yet  de 
clined  to  join  forces  with  the  legal  and  accredited  persons 
at  work  in  the  matter.  "  The  case  is  one  only  specialists 
can  handle,"  said  he  rejoicefully ;  "  and  this  time  I'm  the 
specialist."  Then  Gilhooley  disappeared. 

Three  days  and  nights  did  Stetson  rave  and  rage  and 
suffer  the  torments  of  the  damned  before  the  physicians 
found  their  treatment  beginning  to  prevail.  Then  fol 
lowed  days  of  utter  prostration,  and  meantime  that  other 
patient,  Hayden,  worn  down  to  a  skeleton,  was  beginning 
slowly  and  almost  imperceptibly  to  mend.  Perilously 
near  death's  door  had  he  drifted.  Twice  the  father  and 
sister  had  been  summoned  to  his  bedside  to  see  him  die, 
and  still  he  lived,  just  barely  lived,  and  knew  them  not  at 
all.  If  either  patient,  here  at  Groveton  or  there  at  Chi 
cago,  in  the  course  of  his  delirium  had  revealed  aught 
connected  with  the  mystery  of  Piggott's  murder,  no  one 
of  the  few  watchers  would  admit  it. 

Stetson  was  the  first  to  get  on  his  feet,  the  shadow  of 
his  former  self,  pallid,  nervous  and  shaken,  yet  feverishly 
anxious,  it  was  noted,  for  news  from  Groveton.  It  was 
considered  wise  at  first  to  conceal  from  him  the  tidings  of 


298  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Major  Piggott's  death.  They  might  have  spared  them 
selves  the  trouble.  It  was  in  every  paper  of  prominence 
in  the  West  the  day  following  the  fire,  and  Stetson  had 
not  broken  down  until  nearly  a  week  thereafter.  What 
the  doctor  and  the  legal  luminaries  were  considering  was 
the  fact  that,  if  he  had  seen  the  item  in  the  papers,  his 
conduct  was  callous  in  that  he  had  gone  on  a  spree  in 
Chicago  instead  of  going  back  to  the  funeral  at  Groveton. 
Another  thing  that  called  for  comment  and  explanation 
was  the  fact  that  he,  who  had  been  so  assiduous  in  his 
attentions  before  the  night  of  the  fire,  should  have  mani 
fested  so  little  interest  in  the  disposition  of  his  kinsman's 
remains  and  effects,  but  that  may  have  been  due  to  his 
dazed  condition.  He  woke  to  sudden  and  sordid  interest 
even  before  the  doctors  looked  for  it. 

Piggott  had  been  buried  quietly  and  without  the  cus 
tomary  military  honors.  Three  officers,  designated  by 
General  Sheridan,  came  from  Chicago,  and,  after  confer 
ence  with  the  legal  representatives  of  the  Stetsons  as  well 
as  those  of  the  unseen,  unknown  Mrs.  Piggott,  had  ex 
amined  such  papers  and  effects  as  were  with  him  during 
his  ill-starred  visit  to  Groveton.  Nothing  was  found, 
there,  at  least,  to  throw  much  light  on  his  past,  but  the 
officers  before  going  to  Groveton  had  overhauled  the  con 
tents  of  the  desk,  trunk  and  wardrobe  at  the  Chicago 
lodgings,  and  Hazlett  was  able  to  listen  with  the  equa 
nimity  of  superior  wisdom  to  the  remarks  and  theories  of 
the  legal  gentlemen  wrangling  over  the  right  to  posses- 


A   WOMAN    AT    THE    BOTTOM         299 

sion  of  the  effects.  There  was  much  to  tell,  but  the  time 
was  not  ripe.  Among  the  valuables  in  Piggott's  trunk 
were  the  badges  of  one  or  two  military  societies  to  which 
he  belonged,  by  virtue  of  having  borne  the  commission  of 
a  field  officer  of  volunteers  during  the  civil  war,  and  with 
these  was  that  inexpensive  trifle,  to  gain  which  many  a 
soldier  has  risked  his  life — and  some  few  have  periled 
their  reputations  for  veracity — the  Medal  of  Honor.  Haz- 
lett  and  his  comrades  shook  their  heads  at  sight  of  it 

It  had  been  expected  that  Piggott's  disconsolate  widow 
— she  who  had  so  energetically  pursued  him  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life — would  be  present  to  follow  his 
shrouded  remains  to  the  grave,  but,  acting  on  the  advice 
of  her  legal  representative,  said  the  Chicago  firm,  "  Mrs. 
Piggott  has  decided  not  to  appear.  Her  rights,"  said  they, 
"  will  be  fully  protected."  The  major  had  property  in  the 
East,  also  certain  U.  S.  bonds,  it  was  believed,  and  the 
whereabouts  of  these-the  lawyers  were  more  than  eager  to 
ascertain.  Finding  the  officers  close-mouthed  and  uncom 
promising,  they  resorted  to  the  by  no  means  novel  tactics 
of  assailing  them  through  the  press.  Hazlett  and  his  asso 
ciates  were  presently  and  publicly  accused  of  having  guilty 
knowledge  of  the  disappearance  of  valuable  securities  held 
by  the  late  Major  Piggott.  The  papers  speedily  found 
their  way  to  the  slowly  recuperating  Stetson,  and  then 
that  worthy  awoke  in  earnest.  Stetson  demanded  to 
know  what  steps  had  been  taken  to  bring  to  the  bar  of 
justice  the  murderers  of  his  beloved  and  honored  kinsman, 


300  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Major  Piggott.  Every  man  in  the  least  acquainted  with 
the  situation  and  facts,  said  he,  knew  the  culprit  could 
be  none  other  than  Captain  Fane. 

Hayden  still  lay  helpless  in  hospital,  inert,  unconscious, 
and  with  the  chances  for  recovery  all  against  him.  Stet 
son,  jr.,  had  gone.  The  police,  the  reporters,  the  law 
yers  and  the  soldiers  would  not  say  where,  and  most  of 
them  could  not.  The  one  remarkable  thing  was  that 
Stetson  himself,  though  a  large  sum  of  money  had  gone 
with  the  boy,  refused  to  make  the  faintest  charge  against 
him,  and  declared  his  conviction  that  his  son  would  turn 
up  all  right  unless  there  were  more  Fanes  about  and  he 
had  been  foully  dealt  with ;  yet,  even  while  stoutly  affirm 
ing  the  innocence  of  the  young  man  of  any  crime,  mani 
festing  the  keenest  anxiety  on  his  account  and  hourly 
praying  for  news  of  him.  Gilhooley  had  gone  back  to 
Groveton  in  disgust,  and  was  making  vague  threats  as  to 
what  would  happen  to  certain  people  if  they  interfered 
with  his  prerogatives  again.  And  Stetson's  own  lawyer 
had  been  summoned  from  Groveton  to  Chicago,  whence 
he  presently  returned  bristling  with  information  and  im 
portance.  Stetson,  he  said,  would  be  able  in  a  week  to 
return  to  his  own,  and  then  we  should  see  what  we  should 
see. 

And  in  two  days  less  than  a  week  Stetson  was  home 
again,  and  now,  said  Groveton,  the  climax  has  come  and 
this  painful  mystery  shall  be  solved,  once  and  for  all  time. 
In  some  way  the  story  had  got  abroad  that  when,  on 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  BOTTOM        301 

strong  circumstantial  evidence,  the  murder  of  Major 
Piggott  had  been  shifted  from  the  shoulders  of  Captain 
Fane  to  those  of  the  possibly  dying  and  well-nigh  defense 
less  youth  in  the  county  hospital,  the  prop  that  might  have 
saved  Captain  Fane  had  been  kicked  from  under  his  feet, 
promptly  and  indignantly,  by  Captain  Fane  himself.  It 
was  the  strangest  case  Groveton  had  ever  encountered  or 
ever  heard  of.  Yet  it  was  to  encounter  a  stranger  still, 
and  that  right  soon. 

Fane,  spurning  relief  on  false  pretenses,  had  none  the 
less  begun  to  mend.  He  who  had  been  sad,  dispirited 
and  well-nigh  broken,  seemed  to  find  new  and  joyous 
heart.  From  the  very  moment  that  Hazlett  came  to  him 
with  the  announcement  that  Ethel  Hoyt  had  declared  him 
innocent,  and  her  own  brother  responsible  for  the  death 
of  Major  Piggott,  Ronald  Fane  seized  a  new  lease  on  life, 
a  new  grasp  on  hope,  energy,  and  even  happiness.  His 
mother  and  sisters  were  amazed  at  the  change  in  him. 
He  and  Hazlett  had  had  one  brief  conference  before  the 
captain  started  forth  on  another  quest.  Fane  had  been 
gaining  in  health  and  spirits  even  in  the  face  of  the  fact 
that  the  toils  of  suspicion  were  tightening  about  him  and 
the  surveillance  of  his  every  word  and  act  was  closer.  He 
had  been  allowed  to  see  his  counsel  and  his  kindred,  but 
denied  to  all  others.  He  had  killed  his  case  if  not  him 
self,  said  most  of  the  wise  men  of  Groveton,  yet  he  looked 
younger,  blither,  stronger  than  he  had  looked  "since  the 
evening  of  that  brutal  assault  in  the  west  grove. 


302  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

And  he  looked  to  the  full  as  brave  and  confident  and 
well,  even  on  the  morning  when,  in  presence  of  the  sheriff, 
the  district  attorney  and  certain  of  the  police,  Stetson,  the 
elder,  appeared  in  person,  repeated  his  accusation  and  told 
his  tale. 

The  deceased,  said  he,  was  in  Groveton  on  important 
personal  business.  He  preferred  not  to  go  into  details  as 
to  that  business  until,  or  unless,  it  should  be  necessary, 
but  it  was  "  solely  between  themselves."  They  had  been 
reared  together  in  the  same  village  way  down  East  and, 
though  widely  separated  for  many  years,  had  been  brought 
together  through  business  and  family  matters.  Piggott 
had  told  him  of  the  young  officer's  misbehavior  in  face  of 
the  enemy  in  Arizona.  Piggott  had  said  that  army  influ 
ence  on  the  father's  account  had  whitewashed  the  son, 
but  the  stain  still  showed ;  the  young  man  had  vowed  ven 
geance,  and  Piggott  was  really  afraid  to  meet  him.  This 
was  why  the  major's  movements  had  been  circumscribed. 
He  lived  by  day  over  on  the  Island,  and  was  to  come  to 
the  mainland  only  at  night,  until  their  business  could  be 
finished  and  he  could  return  to  Chicago,  get  his  belong 
ings  and  go  on  about  his  leave.  But,  despite  Stetson's 
caution,  the  two  had  met ;  recognition  was  instant.  There 
had  been  furious  wrords  on  both  sides,  probably,  and  the 
major  told  him,  Stetson,  that  Fane  then  and  there  swore 
he  would  get  his  arms  and  shoot  him  on  sight;  that  he 
would  follow  him  to  the  Island  if  need  be,  but  "  nail  him  " 
somewhere  he  certainly  should.  Stetson  tried  to  laugh 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  BOTTOM        303 

the  major  out  of  his  "  funk,"  but  the  major  was  really 
in  dread  of  his  life.  That  night,  late,  Piggott  must  have 
pulled  himself  ashore  and  attempted  to  get  away, — must 
have  encountered  Fane,  who  was  seen  as  late  as  midnight 
in  the  neighborhood ;  then  had  followed  the  furious  quar 
rel  heard  in  part  by  Scullin;  then  the  shooting.  Now 
there  could  be  no  other  theory. 

,  The  conference,  if  such  it  might  be  called,  had  taken 
place  in  the  sheriff's  office,  and  by  appointment.  Stetson, 
accompanied  by  his  reinstated  physician  and  familiar,  Dr. 
Gilhooley,  had  been  conveyed  thither  in  a  closed  carriage ; 
was  met  there  by  his  legal  friend  and  adviser,  another  of 
the  gifted  though  sometimes  erratic  Hibernian  type,  and 
these  gentlemen  had  insisted  on  their  rights  as  well  as 
their  duty  to  accompany  him.  To  this  there  had  been 
some  demur  on  part  of  the  sheriff,  who  seemed  in  a  semi- 
dazed  condition  at  times  ever  since  Fane's  deliberate 
refusal  to  escape  at  the  expense  of  another.  Moreover, 
the  sheriff  had  been  thrown  in  contact  more  or  less  with 
Hazlett  and  his  unobtrusive  civilian  associate  from  Chi 
cago,  a  detective,  as  the  sheriff  had  sense  enough  to  know. 
The  sheriff  had  been  severe  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties 
as  custodian-in-chief  of  the  accused  officer,  and  now  was 
wishing  he  had  been  less  aggressive.  Hazlett  and  his 
friend  had  evidently  2minent  and  powerful  backing,  "  big 
lawyers  in  consultation,  and  one  big  little  general  tremen 
dously  interested  in  the  case."  His  theory  that  Fane  was 
the  culprit  had  been  staggered  a  bit,  and  he  greedily  wel- 


304  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

corned  the  announcement  that  Stetson  was  coming  to 
fasten  the  crime  where  it  belonged. 

But  Stetson  failed  to  fasten  things  quite  as  firmly  as 
the  sheriff  had  been  led  to  expect.  Moreover,  to  the  cha 
grin  of  the  district  attorney  and  the  sheriff  both,  there  had 
come  this  same  Hazlett,  this  well-garbed  and  -groomed 
man  of  middle  age,  with  a  letter  from  the  Governor  him 
self,  a  gentleman  obviously  so  sure  of  himself  and  his 
mission  that  he  vouchsafed  no  other  explanation  to  either 
of  the  officials  than  that  he  was  there  "  in  the  interests  of 
the  defense."  He  sat  watching  Stetson,  and  never  inter 
posed  word  or  question  until  Stetson's  announcement  tha 
there  could  be  no  other  theory.  Then  at  last  he  spoke : 

"  In  your  opinion,  then,  Mr.  Stetson,  there  could  have 
been  no  other — motive?" 

Stetson  turned  weakly  and  surveyed  him,  not  without 
uneasiness.  "  What  stronger  motive  should  there  be  ?  " 
he  said.  "Didn't  he  want  revenge?" 

"  Was  there  no  one  whom  Piggott  had  wronged,  infi 
nitely  more  than  he  wronged  Captain  Fane  ?  "  And  Haz 
lett  sat  toying  with  his  pointed  pencil  and  even  tilting 
back  in  his  chair,  yet  eyeing  his  man  with  calm,  implac 
able  scrutiny. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  demanded  Stetson,  something 
of  his  old  truculence  for  the  moment  appearing. 

"  For  instance,"  continued  Hazlett,  "  Piggott  would 
have  robbed  Fane  of  his  reputation,  but  he  failed  igno- 
miniously.  He  robbed  another  man  of  his  good  name, 


THE    WOMAN    AT    THE    BOTTOM      305 

of  his  home,  of  his  wife,  all  three—         Pray  don't  rise, 
Mr.  Stetson." 

« it's  a ,  damnable  lie !  "  burst  in  Stetson, 

but  his  face  was  something  fearful  to  see. 

"  It's  what  your  own  son  says,"  continued  Hazlett, 
with  cold-blooded  insistence,  "  and  I  have  brought  him 
here  to  repeat  it.  Would  you  mind  inviting  them  in, 
Mr.  Sheriff?  They  are  in  that  carriage." 

Stetson's  chair  went  back  with  a  crash  as,  with  start 
ing,  staring  eyes,  with  the  sweat  bursting  from  his 
forehead  and  trickling  down  his  face,  he  staggered  to  his 
feet  and  started  for  the  door.  "  I'm  choking,"  he  cried, 
as  an  officer  restrained  him.  "  I'm  choking ! "  and 
indeed  he  looked  it,  but  Hazlett  coolly  lowered  the  sash 
and  the  officer  led  the  stricken  man  to  a  seat  beside  him. 
Sit,  however,  he  would  not.  Staring  from  the  window 
and  shaking  in  every  limb,  the  wretched  father  looked 
forth  upon  a  wretched  son  being  led  limply  up  the  stone 
flagging  from  the  gate,  and  followed  by  a  woman  in 
deep  mourning.  A  moment  more  and  they  were  at  the 
doorway,  and  then,  even  Hazlett's  calm  left  him  at  sight 
of  the  agony  in  the  face  of  the  cornered  victim.  Turning 
once  more  toward  the  interior  of  the  room  the  police 
man's  arm  barely  sustaining  him,  the  father  gazed  dumbly 
for  one  moment  upon  the  abject  and  miserable  form  that 
faltered  at  the  threshold.  Then  up  went  both  clinched 
fists  in  mid-air,  shaking  in  impotent,  intolerable  wrath, 
amaze  and  dreadful  grief  and  despair.  Then  down, 


306  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

straight  forward,  he  went,  plunging  headlong  to  the  floor, 
and  the  blood  was  gurgling  from  his  mouth  as  they  sprang 
and  raised  him,  and  a  woman,  in  funereal  black,  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  before  them  all  and  was  sobbing 
loudly,  wildly:  "  My  God !  My  God !  Have  I  killed  you 
too?" 


CHAPTER  XV 

AS   TOLD   OF   THE   MAJOR 

I  DON'T  know  anything  about  that,"  the  President 
was  saying,  as,  some  ten  days  later,  he  was  in  argu 
ment  with  certain  of  the  Faculty  in  his  library. 
Professors  Sharpe,  Lorirher  and  others,  a  committee  of 
five,  had  expressed  a  desire  to  be  "  heard,"  as  the  con 
dition  of  affairs  in  higher  collegiate  circles  was  that 
usually  described  as  "  strained  relations."  In  point  of 
fact  there  had  been  a  serious  split  in  the  circle — Pro 
fessor  Beerbohm  and  one  or  two  of  similar  pith  having 
declared  their  intention  of  resigning  forthwith.  Then, 
as  no  vehement  opposition  to  the  step  was  heard,  the  next 
announcement  was  to  the  effect  that  they  would  not 
resign  under  fire — this  in  face  of  the  fact  that  there 
seemed  far  less  of  fire  than  ice  in  Faculty  circles  since 
the  collapse  of  the  case  against  Fane.  One  feminine 
member  of  the  corps  of  instructors  had  added  her 
announcement  to  that  of  Beerbohm,  and,  despite  her 
years  of  service,  possibly  because  of  her  years,  she,  too, 
had  encountered  no  violent  opposition — Miss  Hinton. 
One  feminine  member  of  that  corps,  without  announce 
ment  other  than  that  recorded  in  a  previous  page,  had 
summarily  tendered  her  resignation;  had  declined  to 

307 


308  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

reconsider;  had  declined  to  receive  the  President  when 
he  came,  as  he  said,  to  "  set  matters  straight,"  and  had 
with  cold  but  scrupulous  courtesy  listened  unbending  to 
the  pleadings  of  the  President's  wife.  Miss  Hoyt,  as 
yet  at  least,  saw  no  room  for  reconciliation.  Moreover, 
Miss  Hoyt  and  her  father  had  gone  East  just  as  soon  as 
the  young  man  recognized  as  Hayden,  and  now  known 
to  be  Hoyt,  was  pronounced  out  of  danger  of  death. 
It  was  to  plead  for  his  relief  from  other  danger  they  had 
hastened  to  Washington — that  of  arrest  for  desertion. 
Captain  Fane  had  not  yet  resumed  his  duties  at  the 
college,  and  a  rumor  was  in  circulation  that  he  had 
received  an  offer  of  a  much  better  billet,  which  rumor 
had  caused  a  stir  in  the  battalion  and  an  appeal  to  the 
powers.  Sharpe  and  Lorimer,  at  least,  knew  that  Gen 
eral  Sheridan  had  directed  that  as  soon  as  Fane  felt 
able  he  should  come  to  him  at  division  headquarters. 
The  little  general  had  not  forgotten  the  older  division 
commander  with  whom  he  had  served  at  Chattanooga. 
Sharpe  and  Lorimer  had  been  devoted  to  Fane  in  his 
hours  of  bitter  trial,  and  the  strained  relations  in  the 
Faculty  had  grown  from  the  fact  that  the  President,  hav 
ing  been  largely  instrumental  in  bringing  Fane  to  grief, 
— of  course  "  in  the  best  interests  of  the  college," — 
could  not  now  expect  to  be  taken  into  friendship  or  fel 
lowship.  Nevertheless  he  did  so  expect,  and  was 
aggrieved  and  offended  that,  beyond  the  cold  respect 
accorded  him  as  head  of  the  institution,  Fane,  as  he  put 


AS   TOLD    OF    THE   MAJOR  309 

it,  "  had  shown  an  unchristian  spirit  and  declined  to  be 
mollified."  The  good  doctor  could  not  understand  such 
contumacy.  No  man  on  earth  could  assail  or  impugn 
the  rectitude  of  his  intentions,  and,  because  his  intentions 
were  unimpeachable,  the  results,  whatever  they  were, 
should  be  accepted  by  all  loyal  collegians  whatever  their 
degree.  Sharpe  had  amazed  him  by  asking  whether  he 
had  made  amende  or  apology  of  any  kind,  and  finally 
Sharpe  and  his  colleagues  had  formally  asked  to  be 
heard. 

Now,  people  asking  to  be  heard  by  the  President  had 
noted  these  facts.  If  he  felt  no  interest  in  the  matter 
they  could  talk,  uninterrupted,  until  the  call  of  time.  If, 
however,  he  felt  much  interest  they  could  hardly  talk 
at  all.  The  President  would  take  up  the  running  and 
they  who  had  asked  for  a  hearing  found  as  a  result  that 
"  Prex  "  was  the  only  one  heard.  "  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  that,"  he  was  again  saying,  while  they  sat 
discomfited  and  he  strode  the  floor.  "  What  I  maintain 
is  that  this  college  is  not  the  proper  place  for  midnight 
prowlings  and  mysterious  movements  of  any  kind.  I 
disapprove  the  idea  of  professors  promenading  at  all 
hours  under  the  windows  of  our  women  teachers  or  their 
pupils,  either — especially  in  the  dead  of  night." 

"  That  was  not  Captain  Fane  at  all,  as  we  all  know,  and 
as  we  think  you  know,  Mr.  President,"  interrupted 
Sharpe  unhappily,  "  and — 

"  Let  me  finish,  Professor  Sharpe,"  said  the  doctor. 


310  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

with  uplifted  hand.  "  Mr. — er — Captain  Fane  was  the 
only  man  actually  seen  or  reported  to  me  as  having  been 
seen  there  at  night,  and  my  action  was  based  on  what 
I  then  knew  and  believed,  not  by  what  we  have  heard 
since,  and  with  this,  I  apprehend,  Mr.  Fane  should  be 
satisfied." 

"  With  this,  Mr.  President,  in  all  deference,"  replied 
Professor  Sharpe,  "  I  apprehend  Captain  Fane  will  not 
be  satisfied.  I  certainly  should  not.  I  doubt  if  the 
trustees  or  the  public  will  be.  There  has  been  an  entire 
revulsion  of  sentiment  since  the  unmasking  of  Stetson, 
and  now  that  that  precious  pair  are  shown  in  their  true 
light  Captain  Fane  looms  up  rather  as  a  martyr." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about "  began  the  Presi 
dent  hastily,  but  balked  at  the  last  word.  He  did  know 
something  about  it.  He  had  seen  many  an  indication 
pointing  to  just  the  conclusion  heralded  by  Sharpe,  and, 
even  to  himself,  the  President  couldn't  lie.  It  had  been 
dawning  upon  him  that  the  trustees,  the  college,  the 
public,  would  actually  expect  of  him  something  more  than 
rectitude  of  intention.  It  was  beginning  to  come  home 
to  him,  and  not  entirely  because  of  Sharpe's  vehement 
expressions,  that  something  more  than  assurance  of  grat 
ification  was  due  from  him  to  Fane,  and  when  once  the 
President  saw  a  duty  the  President  was  the  man  to  go  and 
do  it.  But  the  President  had  been  bewildered,  small 
wonder,  by  the  remarkable  array  of  facts  that,  one  after 
another,  came  to  light  after  the  arrest  of  Stetson. 


AS   TOLD    OF    THE    MAJOR  311 

Of  him,  the  latest  victim  of  a  combination  of  circum 
stances,  it  may  be  said  at  once  there  was  little  likeli 
hood  of  his  living  to  expiate  his  crime  or  atone  for  his 
misdoing.  Stetson  was  a  doomed  man,  and  he  knew  it, 
and  mortal  hands  were  doing  all  that  skill  could  devise 
to  stay,  not  to  speed,  his  dissolution.  Bowed  and  crushed 
by  a  grief  that  for  the  time  seemed  to  outweigh  all 
sense  of  his  criminal  deeds,  Stetson  was  facing  the  final 
settlement  of  his  earthly  affairs,  half  paralyzed,  heart 
broken.  Whatever  his  sins,  he  had  had  one  great  love 
and  tenderness — his  only  son.  Years  of  his  life  he  had 
planned  and  plotted,  bullied,  fawned  and  lied  for  that 
boy,  and  the  graceless  cub  had  quit  him  in  his  misery 
and  betrayed  him  in  his  crime.  Followed,  "  shadowed," 
and  finally  seized,  young  Stetson,  in  terror  when  told  he 
was  suspected  of  complicity  in  the  death  of  Piggott,  threw 
himself  on  the  mercy  of  his  captors  and  needlessly  told 
the  whole  miserable  story.  Detail  for  detail  it  proved 
to  be,  so  far  as  the  father's  part  was  concerned,  sub 
stantially  true.  There  was  a  conscience-smitten  woman, 
too,  to  corroborate.  There  was  "  Hayden  "  Hoyt,  in  his 
turn,  to  whisper  feeble  assent.  There  was  the  compara 
tively  strange  young  man  who  worked  and  dwelt  on  the 
Hawkins  place  east  of  town — he  who  had  been  long 
away  in  the  Army  or  Navy — to  add  his  testimony. 
There  were  Schwartzkopf  and  his  burly  wife.  There 
were  Scullin  and  other  hands  at  the  college  farm.  There 
was  old  Duggan.  There  was  even,  finally,  Ethel  Hoyt. 


312  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

Long  years  had  Stetson  lived  at  Groveton,  building 
up  from  small  beginnings  a  big,  if  disreputable,  business, 
and  acquiring  the  powers  of  a  ward  boss  and  machine 
politician.  Of  his  past  he  had  chosen  to  say  little  that 
was  reliable.  The  boy  who  came  with  him  was  the  one 
creature  for  whom  he  showed  affection.  So  long  as  he 
remained  poor  there  was  none  to  dog  his  footsteps.  So 
soon  as  he  became  rich,  and  his  riches  were  referred  to 
abroad,  he  began  to  hear  from  kindred  and  former 
friends  who  for  a  decade  had  forgotten  him,  and  through 
these  eventually  came  the  story  of  his  early  life.  He 
hailed  from  an  eastern  State.  His  father  had  been  a 
prosperous  business  man  who,  when  well  along  in  years, 
fell  in  love  with,  wooed  and  won  a  young  widow,  Mrs. 
Piggott  One  son  was  born  to  him;  one  son  had  she 
born  to  her  first  husband ;  and  so  the  young  Piggott  and 
the  young  Stetson,  with  four  years  between  them,  grew 
up  as  boys  together,  half  brothers,  but  seldom  half 
friends.  Early  in  the  5o's  Stetson,  the  youth,  lost  his 
heart  to  an  extremely  pretty  girl  in  a  neighboring  town. 
They  were  married  contrary  to  the  father's  wish,  for  the 
old  trader  had  heard  much  against  her  and  her  people, 
but,  when  the  deed  was  done,  he  sought  to  make  the 
best  of  it.  The  daughter-in-law  proved  selfish,  complain 
ing,  exacting.  Even  the  coming  of  the  baby  boy  did  not 
mend  matters.  She  was  forever  demanding  money,  and 
more  money,  and  poor  Stetson,  infatuated,  begged,  bor 
rowed,  and  Piggott  finally  put  it  in  his  way  to  steal  for 


AS   TOLD    OF   THE    MAJOR  313 

her.  The  father  condoned  and  forgave,  which  was  not 
what  Piggott  expected.  He  had  come  home  from  some 
what  fruitful  ventures,  and  had  much  more  means  than 
Stetson,  who  soon  had  none.  He  felt  the  spell  of  that 
young  woman's  beauty,  and  himself  became  infatuated.  It 
was  not  long  before  there  was  another  big  theft,  a  bigger 
one  than  before,  and  it  was  proved  again  against  Stetson. 
Friends  and  neighbors  by  this  time  were  whispering 
that  he  was  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  and  so  it 
presently  proved.  Piggott,  for  a  time,  was  missing. 
Stetson  took  his  little  boy,  the  few  dollars  his  aging 
father  would  give  him,  and  shook  the  dust  of  the  home 
town  from  his  feet.  The  elders  lived  but  a  short  time. 
Piggott  came  back  and  took  up  the  business.  The  lady  in 
the  case,  "  deserted "  by  her  husband,  was  given  a 
divorce,  and  presently  reigned  as  Mrs.  Piggott.  The  com 
munity  didn't  like  them,  and  they  moved  away.  Pig 
gott  would  have  said  West,  but  that  was  where  Stetson 
had  gone,  so  they  went  still  farther  east,  where  it  was  not 
many  years  before  Piggott  regretted  him  of  his  bar 
gain,  if  not  of  his  sins.  The  war  came  on,  and  he  was 
not  sorry  to  leave  her,  in  peace.  Piggott  was  a  good 
worker.  He  worked  into  a  captaincy  and  then  into  a 
recruiting  detail,  and  while  so  occupied  got  the  ear  of  the 
Governor,  and  higher  rank  in  a  new  regiment.  Luck 
helped  him  to  a  lieutenant  colonelcy  in  the  course  of  the 
second  year  of  the  war,  during  which,  from  first  to  last, 
he  was  never  in  action,  yet  "  the  defenses  of  Washing- 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

ton  "  sounded  big  in  print,  and  when  after  a  hair-raising 
fright  in  the  summer  of  '63,  the  Capital  once  more 
breathed  free,  when  the  gray  columns  fell  back  beaten 
from  Gettysburg,  with  lavish  generosity  the  Government 
rewarded  the  defenders  who  hadn't  had  to  defend,  and 
the  end  of  the  war  found  him  a  captain  of  regulars,  with 
a  Medal  of  Honor  for  presumable  heroism,  safely 
employed  mustering  and  disbursing,  and  laying  up  treas 
ures  upon  earth.  Finally,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was  sent 
to  Arizona  a  major,  and  by  this  time  Mrs.  Piggott,  who 
had  long  before  tired  of  him,  began  to  think  it  might 
be  a  good  thing  to  shine  in  Army  society,  and  so  took 
to  pursuit  of  him.  There  were  suits  at  law  where  once 
the  suits  had  been  in  love,  and  the  absent  major  got  the 
worst  of  the  decision.  A  veritable  harridan  the  lady 
proved,  and  then,  in  the  extremities  that  followed,  poor 
Piggott  bethought  him  of  his  now  influential  and  wealthy 
brother  in  Groveton.  Surely  if  any  man  should  be 
grateful  to  him  it  was  he,  Stetson,  whom  Piggott  had 
relieved  of  a  scold,  a  shrew  and  a  rank  extravagance. 
Piggott  never  dreamed  how  much  the  poor  fellow  had 
loved  her,  or  how  he  loved,  cherished  and  lied  for  that 
son.  Lied  to  him,  as  it  proved,  for  Stetson  had  taught 
the  boy  to  believe  that  the  woman  who  had  robbed  and 
wronged  him,  the  father,  had  been  an  angel  of  love  on 
earth,  had  long  been  an  angel  of  light  in  heaven.  Even 
such  as  Stetson  have  their  vein  of  sentiment. 
And  this  then  was  the  whip  the  major  found  he  might 


AS    TOLD    OF    THE    MAJOR  315 

crack  when  Stetson,  the  father,  cursed  and  refused  to 
aid  him.  Piggott  swore  he  would  reveal  the  mother's 
shame  to  Stetson  the  son.  Brute  that  the  younger 
brother  had  been  in  many  a  way,  that  was  the  one  thing 
he  could  not  stand.  The  boy  wasn't  worth  the  tenth 
part  of  the  love  and  the  lies  that  had  been  lavished  on 
him.  It  may  well  be  doubted  if  he  would  have  been 
confounded  or  crushed  by  the  tidings  Piggott  threatened 
to  break  to  him,  but  Stetson,  the  father,  saw  fit  to  believe 
in  the  boy,  and  so  temporized  with  the  brother. 

Piggott  had  come  hoping  to  get  money,  for  he  needed 
it.  He  won  a  point  or  two,  also,  by  promising  Stetson 
evidence  to  disgrace  Fane,  whom  Stetson  hated  for  expel 
ling  his  son.  He  was  not,  however,  prepared  to  go  the 
lengths  the  Stetsons  planned.  They  lured  Fane  into 
the  west  grove  at  night,  and  had  a  trusted  pair  of  fellow 
blackguards  on  hand  to  "  do  him  up."  The  plan  was 
simply  to  beat,  kick,  maim  and  mutilate  the  arrogant 
officer,  but  Piggott's  nerve,  or  conscience,  revolted  when, 
at  the  last  moment  that  plan  revealed  itself.  The  brutes 
might  have  done  worse  than  they  did  but  for  two  things. 
Piggott  yelled  for  help ;  was  grappled  by  Stetson,  and  in 
course  of  the  struggle  the  latter's  pistol  went  off  and  its 
bullet  ripped  Piggott's  fleshy  thigh,  disabling  him.  The 
other  thing  was  the  prompt  and  sudden  rush  to  the 
scene  of  an  active  young  fellow,  wielding  a  hickory 
stick  with  which,  in  one  blow,  he  flattened  out  Stetson, 
junior;  then  furiously  turned  on  the  other  "toughs" 


316  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  put  them  to  flight,  and  finally,  charging  upon  Stet 
son  and  his  half-blinded  son,  as  they  stumbled  with  the 
crippled  man  to  the  faintly  lighted  shore,  all  as  sud 
denly  as  he  had  appeared  dropped  his  bludgeon  and  dove 
into  the  bushes.  In  that  brief  instant  Piggott,  the  officer, 
and  Hayden,  the  deserter,  had  recognized  each  other. 
It  might  be  hard  to  say  which  was  the  more  dismayed. 

Stetson's  boat  was  in  waiting,  old  "  Dummy  "  at  the 
oars.  Young  Stetson  took  the  carriage  at  Cedar  Point, 
drove  home  and  sent  for  aid.  Old  Stetson  lugged  Piggott 
to  the  Island;  learned  from  him  the  identity  of  the  res 
cuer;  laid  a  trap  for  young  Hayden,  who  was  swiftly 
sandbagged  a  night  or  two  later  and  borne  a  prisoner 
to  the  Roost,  where  now  the  astute  politician  conceived 
he  had  two  valuable  tools  in  his  hands,  both  of  whom 
could  be  made  to  do  his  bidding.  But,  in  his  triumph, 
he  took  to  drink,  lost  his  wits,  bullied  and  threatened 
both.  Piggott  almost  escaped  him  and  was  only  over 
hauled  after  he  had  got  safely  to  shore.  In  the  furious 
quarrel  that  followed,  Piggott  was  shot  and  almost  killed. 
Then  Stetson  realized  his  awful  dilemma.  His  son,  one 
or  two  of  their  accomplices  and  this  young  man,  Hayden, 
had  all  heard  his  threats  to  kill  Piggott  if  he  failed  him, 
and  now,  though  he  never  meant,  with  all  his  hatred,  to 
go  so  far,  he  had  fired  what  proved  to  be  the  fatal  shot. 
He  did  not  know  that  Piggott,  either  fearing  some  such 
fate  or  hating  the  man  he  had  so  wronged,  had  put  in 
writing  the  mother's  story  and  given  it  to  the  son,  "  To 


AS    TOLD    OF    THE    MAJOR  B17 

be  opened  in  case  anything  happens  to  me."  Had  Stet 
son  known  it  he  might  have  felt  even  less  compunction. 
But  suspicion  had  not  as  yet  attached  to  him.  Piggott 
might  not  die,  and  Hayden  could  not  betray  him  so  long 
as  he  was  safely  penned  at  the  Island.  It  might  even  be 
possible,  by  insinuation,  to  implicate  Fane,  and  Stetson 
did  his  best  so  to  do,  with  the  result  we  have  noted. 
Then  came  the  collapse.  The  doctor  told  him  Piggott 
was  sinking.  Stetson's  nerve  failed  him  and  he  sent  his 
son  away,  preparing  himself  to  follow  as  soon  as  he  could 
silence  young  Hayden,  who  had  been  making  mad 
attempts  to  escape,  and  who  must  have  succeeded  in 
signaling  to  the  shore,  for  another  strange  young  man 
had  rowed  to  the  Roost  and  inquired  pertinaciously  for 
him.  Then  came  a  mad  interview  with  his  prisoner, 
whom  he  sought  both  to  bribe  and  bully,  and  who 
damned  and  defied  him.  The  storm  had  begun  to  rage, 
and,  in  spite  of  it,  came  that  dreaded  pursuit  from  shore, 
with  news  for  him  that  he  dare  not  hear.  In  his  horror 
he  believed  they  had  fathomed  his  secret  and  were  come 
to  seize  him.  The  witness,  at  least,  they  should  never 
have.  Hayden's  leg  was  in  splints ;  it  had  been  snapped 
below  the  knee  in  his  furious  struggles  when  waylaid 
and  tossed  into  the  boat.  Stetson  hurriedly  half  gagged 
and  bound  him;  capsized  his  kerosene  lamp  in  the  huge 
pile  of  straw  and  empty  boxes  in  his  cellar ;  fled  through 
a  rear  door  into  the  night  and,  daring  the  gale,  cut  loose 
the  boat;  was  tossed  ashore  at  the  east  end  an  hour  or 


318  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

so  later,  drenched  and  half  drowned,  and  found  a  refuge 
and  means  of  escape  to  Chicago,  but  had  not  sense  or 
strength  to  avoid  liquor.  The  delirium  that  followed 
was  bad  enough,  but  the  despair  when,  slowly  rallying, 
he  found  his  betrayer  was  his  own  son,  beggars  all  de 
scription.  After  that  Stetson  never  seemed  to  care  what 
happened  to  him.  Partial  paralysis  had  developed  on  the 
instant,  and  the  end  could  not  be  far  off. 

The  strange  young  man  from  Hawkins's  farm  had  an 
interesting  tale  to  tell.  He  had  served  a  long  enlist 
ment,  had  saved  his  money  and  had  a  substantial  sum 
about  him  at  the  Colorado,  where,  while  waiting  for  a 
boat  to  Yuma,  he  "  sat  into  a  small  game  " ;  found  him 
self  being  systematically  fleeced  by  certain  experts  among 
the  troopers;  made  a  fight  for  his  money  and  then  for 
his  life,  and  would  have  lost  both  but  for  young  Hayden, 
who  sided  with  him  even  against  his  own  sergeant — 
one  of  the  experts — and  in  the  drunken  affray  that  fol 
lowed  downed  that  sergeant  in  self-defense.  After  that 
Arizona  was  no  place  for  him.  No  officers  were  at  hand 
to  protect.  His  liberty,  if  not  his  life,  was  imperiled  and 
he  fled  to  San  Benardino  with  his  friend.  There  they 
separated;  Hayden  to  find  a  way  to  his  kindred;  Rollis, 
the  honorably  discharged  soldier,  to  his  old  home  near 
Groveton.  There,  some  months  after,  a  hunted  man, 
Hayden  reached  him,  saying  his  sister  was  now  at  the 
college,  but  that  he  had  to  meet  her  by  stealth  because  of 
the  presence  of  the  lieutenant  who  had  saved  his  life  at 


AS    TOLD    OF    THE    MAJOR  319 

Tonto  Pass.  Hayden  told  Rollis  of  the  affray  at  the 
west  grove,  and  then,  a  few  nights  later,  disappeared. 
Rollis,  seeing,  finally,  the  candle  signals  at  the  Island, 
conjectured  that  his  friend  had  fallen  into  Stetson's 
clutches.  Not  knowing  what  else  to  do  he  strove  to 
arouse  Captain  Fane,  whose  light  was  burning.  He  had 
urged  Hayden  to  go  to  Fane  and  surrender,  assuring 
him  that  when  his  story  was  known  the  desertion  would 
be  pardoned,  but  Hayden  had  seen  poor  devils  sent  in 
ball  and  chain  to  Alcatraz,  and  so  dare  not  risk  it.  His 
luck,  he  said,  was  all  too  bad.  Rollis  said  his  repeated 
rappings  at  the  window  brought  no  response.  Then  he 
decided  that  the  young  officer  was  not  in  his  room,  and, 
while  waiting  at  the  rear  watching  for  further  signals 
from  the  Island,  he  heard  footfalls  in  the  wing  and  saw 
the  gleam  of  a  lamp.  "  The  captain  at  last !  "  said  he, 
and  hurrying  toward  the  side  door  was  scared  by  the 
sight  of  a  strange  young  lady,  and  ran  back  to  the 
shrubbery.  Later  came  two  men  hurrying,  panting, 
along  the  shore  path.  At  first  he  thought  they  were 
students  out  on  a  lark  of  some  kind,  and  he  kept  in  hiding 
until  they  got  by.  Then  he  knew  they  were  older  men, 
excited  and  muttering.  From  the  few  words  he  man 
aged  to  hear  he  felt  sure  one  of  them  was  Stetson. 
They  went  on  townward  along  the  shore,  a  roundabout 
way  home,  but  he  saw  now  the  purpose.  Stetson 
appeared  that  night,  late,  at  some  of  his  customary 
haunts.  An  alibi,  Rollis  saw  days  after,  might  be 


320  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

needed.  He  had  heard  no  sound  of  shot  or  struggle 
westward  toward  Cedar  Point,  but  then  the  wind  was 
blowing  the  wrong  way.  He  did  hear,  shortly  after 
they  passed,  the  sound  of  three  shots,  and  saw  the  flash 
of  one,  half  a  mile  farther  east  where  a  wooded  point 
projected  a  few  rods  into  the  lake.  This  excited  him 
and  he  hurried  thither  to  investigate,  following  the  path 
through  the  woods  and  so  on  into  the  main  streets  of 
town,  and  did  not  see  a  soul.  There  were  boathouses 
and  moored  boats  along  the  shore  between  the  wood 
and  Mrs.  Jamieson's  home.  There  were  several  lanes  and 
streets  leading  to  the  thickly  settled  neighborhood,  and 
he  found  no  one,  nor  did  he  know  who  did  the  shooting, 
until  long  days  after  Fane  explained  it. 

Fane  had  been  warned  that  evening  of  a  project  to 
take  all  the  doors  of  the  gymnasium  from  their  hinges, 
throw  them  out  into  the  lake  and  set  them  adrift.  He 
could  sleep  but  little,  anyway,  and  had  been  on  the  look 
out  for  night  prowlers  during  the  week.  It  might  be 
only  another  ambush.  At  all  events  he  took  his  revolver ; 
scouted  the  college  grounds  almost  as  far  as  Scullin's 
bailiwick;  then,  seeing  a  light  at  the  Island  and  other 
lights  along  the  shore  toward  town,  he  tramped  east 
ward  again.  If  boats  were  to  be  used  he  might  see  what 
boats  were  missing.  Walking  all  the  way  to  and  beyond 
Woody  Point,  until  the  eastern  outskirts  of  Groveton 
were  reached,  he  could  find  no  boat  gone  except  one  of 
Stetson's,  and  his  were  often  over  at  the  Island.  Return- 


AS   TOLD    OF    THE    MAJOR 

ing  through  the  wood  he  suddenly  came,  almost  face  to 
face,  upon  two  hurrying  men  who  at  first  recoiled,  then 
rushed  past  him,  hurling  him  heavily  against  a  tree. 
Despite  the  instant  pain  and  faintness  that  seized  him 
as  his  wounded  shoulder  felt  the  shock,  he  whirled  about 
and  shouted  something,  probably,  "  Halt,  you  cowards !  " 
and  started  in  pursuit.  Two  harmless  shots  were  fired 
by  the  runaways,  and  in  his  exasperation  he  drew  and 
replied.  Then  in  shame  and  weakness,  both,  gave  up 
and  sank  upon  a  bench.  He  was  still  white  and  shaken 
when  he  got  home.  The  revolver  had  seemed  to  dis 
charge  itself,  before  he  had  grasped  the  stock  and  while 
two  fingers  were  yet  along  the  cylinder.  He  doubted 
even  having  raised  it  to  aim.  He  was  examining  the 
cylinder  when  he  went  to  close  the  side  door,  and  a 
light  he  had  not  noted  earlier  shone  from  the  Island. 
He  went  the  length  of  the  back  garden  to  study  it  and 
it  disappeared.  Returning  he  encountered  Jane  and — 
that  was  all. 

But  who  was  to  tell  Jane's  story  ?  Jane,  who  probably 
had  suffered  most  of  all!  To  Ronald,  and  to  Ronald 
alone,  at  the  time,  that  story  was  sobbed  out  with  a 
world  of  sisterly  shame,  sorrow  and  contrition,  and 
what  she  told  him  we  others  never  knew  till  many  a 
year  thereafter. 

There  was  another  sore  troubled  spirit  at  Groveton 
the  week  that  saw  young  Hoyt's  convalescence  assured, 
the  father  and  daughter  gone  to  Washington  (where 


322  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

State  Senator  Betts  was  not  needed  in  the  appeal  for 
pardon    for    the    young    deserter)    and    Captain    Fane 
restored  to  duty,  if  not  to  health.     Certain  few  of  the 
Faculty,  who  thought  it  the  policy  of  wisdom  to  hold 
that  the  President  could  do  no  wrong,  were  striving  to 
point  out  to  him  that  the  manifold  symptoms  of  wrong 
doing  on  part   of   Captain    Fane   were   quite   sufficient 
warrant  for  all  the  presidential  strictures  and  measures 
at  that  officer's  expense.     "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
that,"    said    he,    as    he    turned    impatiently    from    such 
scholastic  tender  of  sympathy.    "  It  seems  I  was  wrong, 
and  I  shall  go  to  Mr.-er-Captain  Fane  and  say  so, 
and  a— a— Beerbohm,  the  sooner  you  do  likewise  the 
better." 


PART  IV 
EPILOGUE:  AT  THE  POINT 


EPILOGUE 

AT     THE     POINT 

A  NOTHER  summer,  the  second  since  that  event- 
/-\  ful  November  at  Groveton,  had  dawned  upon 
-*-  •*  the  Co-Educational.  "  Commencement,"  that 
blissful  week  of  the  college,  had  come  and  gone.  Bac 
calaureate  sermon  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  a  thing 
by  no  means  forgotten,  for  the  President  had  the  gift 
of  words  that  lived  long  in  memory.  The  biggest  bat 
talion  ever  mustered  on  the  campus,  up  to  that  fair 
June  day,  had  held  its  final  review  and  parade,  a  famous 
general  of  the  army  coming  with  his  staff  to  add  eclat 
to  the  ceremonies  and  to  compliment  a  complacent  Board 
of  Trustees  on  the  remarkable  progress  made  under  their 
wise  and  intelligent  direction,  whereat  the  battalion 
swayed  in  mirth  irrepressible,  the  first  bit  of  unsteadiness 
observable  that  day,  for  it  was  well  known  that,  until 
Colonel  West's  reappointment  on  the  Board, — he  having 
been  temporarily  superseded  through  adverse  political 
complications, — Fane  had  had  one  long,  up-hill  tussle  with 
that  semi-bucolical  body,  "  winning  out,"  as  the  boys 
expressed  it,  only  by  sheer  pluck  and  pertinacity.  A 
remarkable  scene  was  that  that  followed  the  dismissal 
of  parade,  when,  at  some  prearranged  signal,  the  student 

325 


326  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

soldiery  broke  ranks  and  swarmed  about  their  young 
instructor,  young  despite  certain  filmy  strands  of  gray 
that  showed  about  his  temples,  and  told  perhaps  more  of 
hours  of  peril  and  trial  than  of  years  of  life.  They 
cheered  him  until  the  rafters  of  the  old  gymnasium  trem 
bled.  They  chaired  West,  his  backer  and  champion, 
until  that  blushing  veteran  begged  for  permission  to 
return  once  more  to  terra  firma.  The  two  years  of 
almost  ceaseless  battle  for  right  and  recognition  were 
ended,  and  Fane  had  swept  his  opponents  successively 
from  every  point  where  they  had  made  a  stand.  The 
President  long  since  had  learned  the  value  to  the  college 
of  such  discipline  as  Fane  had  taught.  The  President 
still  held  war  and  preparation  for  war  to  be  barbarous, 
but  when  such  preparation  resulted  in  such  almost 
unheard-of  things  as  courteous  and  respectful  demeanor 
toward  even  the  weaklings  among  the  Faculty,  and  to 
vast  improvement  in  student  bearing  at  lecture,  chapel 
and  recitation,  the  President  conceded  that  even  from 
such  iniquitous  premises  might  spring  conclusions  well 
worth  cultivating.  Nine  out  of  ten  of  the  students  had 
become  Fane's  adherents,  even  though  some  of  the  nine 
could  have  dispensed  with  some  of  the  drills.  The  main 
opposition  had  come  from  Trustees  representing  the  more 
remote  districts,  men  who  swallowed  entire  the  stories 
told  by  the  few  students  sent  home  for  academic  reasons, 
and  were  sure  to  lay  their  short-comings,  either  in  studies 
or  conduct,  to  the  exactions  of  "  the  military  prof."  It 


EPILOGUE:    AT    THE    POINT  327 

took  time  to  combat  these  impressions — time,  patience 
and  self-discipline,  and  Ronald  Fane  had  had  himself 
to  contend  with  and  subdue  before  he  could  begin  to  con 
vince  the  Trustees,  some  two  or  three  of  whom  had  held 
out  to  the  last.  It  was  not  until  the  meeting  of  that 
second  summer,  the  first  since  West's  restoration  to  the 
Board  (vice  poor  Stetson's  local  representative  now 
deposed)  that  Fane's  victory  was  finally  complete. 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  many  a  trial  of  which  the 
outside  world  heard  nothing  and  Groveton  but  little. 
Of  these,  that  fond  but  most  unreasoning  mother  con 
tributed,  perhaps,  the  greatest  number,  and  the  burden 
fell  almost  equally  on  Ronald  and  on  Jane.  Long  a 
power  in  garrison  circles,  never  for  a  moment  could  the 
aging  widow  adapt  herself  to  conditions  wherein  she 
was  but  a  cipher.  Bred  to  the  army  blue,  if  not  the 
purple,  poor  Mrs.  Fane  could  not  be  reconciled  to  what 
she  termed  "  the  dreary  inanities  "  of  life  in  a  Western 
college  town.  She  who  had  reigned  as  the  social  head, 
the  wife  of  the  commanding  officer,  the  recipient  of  the 
attention,  flattery  and  homage  of  all  within  her  ken, 
actually  suffered  in  the  apparent  neglect  and  indifference 
of  these  "  narrow  and  unappreciative  provincials."  Poor 
Mrs.  Fane  could  talk  to  her  callers  of  little  but  the  state 
in  which  she  had  dwelt,  the  distinguished  personages 
she  had  intimately  known,  the  tremendous  entertain 
ments  that  were  the  almost  daily  episodes  of  her  life  at 
Newport,  at  Washington  and  Old  Point  Comfort.  Sim- 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

pie-minded,  simple-mannered  and  simply-gowned  women, 
wives  and  daughters  of  teachers,  some  of  whom  were 
eminent  in  their  line,  listened  with  little  sympathy  but 
exemplary  patience  to  her  jeremiads,  but  could  find  no 
other  topic  on  which  she  would  converse.  Ronald  and 
Jane  had  early  discovered  a  mine  of  interest  and  instruc 
tion  in  the  weekly  lectures  in  science,  history  and  art 
with  which  college  circles  were  favored,  but  Mrs.  Fane, 
after  one  dazzling  display  at  a  "  Faculty  Reception  "  and 
the  discovery  that  Ronald  was  the  only  man  in  evening 
dress  and  herself  the  only  woman  "  properly  gowned,"  had 
refused  to  attend  further  functions  of  the  kind,  and  had 
thereby  brought  not  reproach,  but  infinite  relief,  to  a 
circle  that  had  suffered  distinct  sense  of  shock  at  her 
appearance — metropolitan  and  provincial  theories  as  to 
what  was  or  was  not  proper  in  feminine  evening  toilet 
being  widely  at  variance.  Sister  Clare,  bride-elect  of 
the  rector  of  Grace,  had  not  ventured  to  appear  decol 
lete  (despite  a  warrantable  predilection),  thanks  to  a 
hint  from  Jane,  whose  attire  had  even  been  simplicity 
itself. 

Mrs.  Fane's  one  adventure  in  college  society  was 
long  thereafter  a  fruitful  topic  of  whispered  remark  in 
strictly  feminine  circles  of  Groveton,  and  when,  soon 
thereafter,  the  sorrowing,  complaining,  suffering  woman 
took  to  her  bed  and  slowly  pined  and  sadly  wept  her  life 
away,  it  was  not  easy  for  college  wives  and  mothers  and 
sisters  to  do  what  they  did  do — come  day  after  day, 


EPILOGUE:    AT    THE    POINT  329 

some  of  them  at  least,  to  offer  aid  and  comfort,  to  bring 
delicacies  and  tempting  dishes  and  tender  of  service 
as  nurse  and  helper,  and  Ronald  Fane,  who  had  thought 
these  people  cold,  uncharitable,  unsympathetic,  found  his 
heart  going  out  to  them  in  gratitude  unspeakable,  and 
Jane's  deep  eyes  welled  over  time  and  again  with  gush 
ing  tears.  The  long  and  anxious  months  of  that  first 
spring  and  summer  at  last  rolled  by,  and  all  that  was 
mortal  of  a  once  queenly  woman  was  borne  away  and 
laid  by  the  side  of  the  soldier  husband  who  had  pre 
ceded  her  to  the  land  of  shadows. 

There  was  another  stay  and  comfort  in  that  dreary 
time  for  which  Ronald  felt  most  fervent  thankfulness. 
West  had  returned  at  Christmastide,  bringing  with  him 
to  their  final  resting  place  all  save  memory  that  was  left 
him  of  the  invalid  wife  he  had  taken  abroad.  West 
had  not  been  slow  to  see  that  his  general's  widow  had 
not  long  to  live,  and  in  every  gentle,  unobtrusive  way 
he  sought  to  relieve  the  brother  and  sister  of  some 
part  of  their  heavy  burden.  Accustomed  to  unlimited 
professional  services  from  the  army  physicians,  poor 
Mrs.  Fane  expected  just  as  much  from  civilian  prac 
titioners,  whose  monthly  bills  could  not  but  equal  Ron 
ald's  monthly  pay  had  customary  rates  been  charged. 
Fane  felt  sure,  despite  good  Dr.  Stanton's  stout  denial, 
that  West  was  accountable  for  that  most  moderate 
claim  when  at  last  Fane's  demands  were  heard,  and 
it  was  rendered,  and  Jane  went  off  without  a  word 


THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  hid  somewhere  that  lovely  afternoon.     She  so  very 
seldom  happened  to  meet  West  at  any  time. 

Fane  could  have  sworn  that  those  railway  passes  for 
himself  and  family  from  Groveton  to  the  seaboard  and 
return  were  not,  as  represented,  the  spontaneous  "  com 
pliments  of  the  road."  In  a  dozen  other  ways  the 
influence  and  interest  of  West  had  been  exerted,  as  Fane 
felt  sure,  in  their  behalf,  and  always  to  their  material 
aid.  Clare  and  her  ecclesiastical  Adonis  never  dreamed, 
though  Jane  and  Ronald  both  suspected,  that  West  was 
the  instigator  in  a  most  unlooked-for  raise  of  salary  for 
the  incumbent  of  Grace,  not  to  mention  a  furnishing  of 
the  modest  parsonage  that  would  hardly  have  been  sug 
gested  by  the  lambs  of  a  sorely  disappointed  flock. 
Clare  and  her  Honeyman  were  happily  wed  almost  within 
the  twelvemonth  that  marked  the  coming  of  the  Fanes 
to  Groveton,  almost  within  the  month  that  marked  the 
going  of  the  mother.  Then,  with  Pet  and  her  prog 
eny  and  her  husband  far  away,  the  brother  and  the 
one  unmarried  sister  found  themselves  once  more  en 
grossed  in  their  college  duties  and  in  each  other. 

And  yet  Jane  knew  he  was  not  happy — there  was  a 
longing  unspeakable,  a  void  that  she  could  never  fill. 
They  seldom  spoke  of  Ethel  Hoyt,  perhaps  because  Jane 
felt  sure  he  was  forever  thinking  of  her.  They  rarely 
heard  from  or  even  of  her.  When  sufficiently  recovered 
to  hobble  about  young  "  Hayden  "  Hoyt,  as  they  always 
thought  of  him,  had  been  taken  East,  his  father  coming 


EPILOGUE:    AT    THE    POINT  331 

for  him  and  bringing  him  to  see  the  Fanes,  not  once, 
but  twice,  before  they  left,  and  both  times  expressing 
fervent  gratitude  to  the  young  officer  for  the  valiant  deed 
that  had  spared  to  him  the  life  of  his  hot-headed  boy, 
who  in  his  turn  had  risked  either  life  or  liberty  in  the  effort 
to  rescue  Fane.  "  Honors  are  easy,"  said  Ronald,  laugh 
ing,  in  bidding  them  good-by.  "  Medals  of  Honor  are, 
at  least,"  laughed  Hayden,  in  reply,  and  told  again  how 
Sergeant  Strang  and  others  had  ceased  to  wear  their 
own  after  seeing  Piggott's.  And  so,  father  and  son,  the 
latter  pardoned  and  discharged  from  service,  they  went 
their  way,  and  Ethel  had  not  come  at  all.  Fane  had 
written  to  her,  a  long  letter,  and  had  finally  sent  to  her 
a  short  one,  telling  her  how  deeply  he  appreciated  her 
effort  to  save  his  name,  even  to  the  extent  of  involving 
her  brother,  but  that  was  all.  The  mother  and,  in  part, 
the  sisters  were  still  dependent  on  him.  What  right  had 
he  to  speak  of  love  when,  confronting  him  at  every  turn, 
was — duty. 

But  Furlong  was  still  there  at  the  Point,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  that  flippant  manner,  still  a  stanch  friend  of  Ronald 
Fane,  and  Furlong  saw  fit  to  write  of  things  Fane  read 
with  eagerness,  yet  never  fully  answered.  Furlong  told 
how  Hoyt,  the  absent  brother  on  diplomatic  service,  had 
come  home  and  wrung  a  settlement  out  of  State  Senator 
Betts,  whom  he  had  long  suspected.  Furlong  couldn't 
say  just  what  had  been  done,  but  it  was  common  talk 
that  Betts  had  been  unmasked — had  even  been  forced  to 


332  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

restore  to  the  Hoyts  certain  securities  he  had  seques 
trated.  Betts  had  had  his  choice  between  that  and  Sing 
Sing.  Once  again  the  father  and  daughter  were  in  com 
fortable  circumstances,  and  had  taken  Hayden  abroad. 
It  made  it  all  the  more  difficult  for  Fane  to  write,  and 
Colonel  West  suggested  that  his  surplus  time  might  well 
be  given  to  the  study  of  the  law,  "  something,"  said  he, 
"  few  army  officers  know  anything  about."  State  col 
lege  had  no  law  department,  but  West's  office  and  library 
were  at  his,  Ronald's,  disposal.  "  And  then,"  said  Mrs. 
Hazlett  archly,  when  she  heard  of  the  arrangement,  "  it 
will  be  so  easy  for  the  colonel  to  drop  in  on  Ronald 
winter  evenings — just  to  quiz  him."  All  the  same  Mrs. 
Hazlett  heartily  approved  of  Colonel  West,  who  in  turn 
was  forever  begging  her  and  the  captain  to  come  out  to 
Groveton  and  spend  a  few  days  with  him.  The  big 
house,  he  said,  was  mightly  lonely.  How  he  wished  that 
Fane  and  his  sister  could  be  induced  to  come  and  board 
with  him  for  nothing  instead  of  paying  so  much  of  their 
slender  income  into  the  coffers  of  Mrs.  Jamieson ! 

So  Fane  had  been  studying  law  some  sixteen  months 
when  this  second  June  came  round,  and  that  sorely 
wounded  shoulder  was  still  a  source  of  frequent  torment, 
and  West  had  long  been  hinting  at  the  possibility  of  re 
tirement  from  the  profession  of  arms  and  a  call  to  the 
bar.  The  army,  said  he,  was  but  a  poor  place  in  peace 
time  for  even  a  soldier  and  the  son  of  a  soldier,  and, 
Ronald's  ears  being  deaf  to  such  semi-professional  plead- 


EPILOGUE:   AT    THE    POINT  333 

ing's,  the  colonel  had  been  having  others  in  the  shape  of 
long  talks  with  Jane — talks  that  grew  longer  with  the 
sweet,  spring-sunshiny  days  and  the  perfume  of  the  lilacs, 
the  glory  of  the  apple  blossoms,  the  melody  of  the  myriad 
songsters  flitting  in  and  out  among  the  fresh  and  whis 
pering  leaves,  the  mad  frisk  of  the  squirrel,  the  merry 
laughter  of  sportive  childhood.  The  talks  grew  longer 
still  with  the  long  May  days.  The  talks  grew  complicated 
with  walks  that  started  briskly  and  soon  turned  to  saunter, 
and  to  silences  that  were  eloquent  to  these  two,  strolling 
in  the  soft  May  twilight  along  that  ever  murmuring  shore, 
and  one  night  in  early  June  Jane  came  to  Ronald  and 
clung  to  him  awhile,  and  he  pretended  not  to  know  what 
might  be  coming,  when  from  his  shoulder  she  looked  up 
at  him,  shyly  yet  with  shining  eyes,  and  when  at  last  it 
was  told  and  there  had  been  the  long  and  longed-for  ex 
change  of  confidences,  Jane  looked  again  into  his  face, 
asking  still  for  more,  and  still  there  was  something  he 
would  not  speak  of,  and  she  who  had  striven  once  to  inter 
pose — to  turn  him  from  that  other  girl  who  had  once 
seemed  destined  to  come  between  them — now  sought  a 
way  to  turn  him  yet  again,  and  not  by  word  or  sign  would 
he  encourage  her. 

And  so  when  the  last  good-night  had  to  be  said  and  the 
"  Senator  "  was  booming  the  hour  of  eleven,  and  all  was 
silence  on  the  hill,  she  could  brook  the  barriers  no  longer. 
The  cry  came  from  the  depths  of  her  happy  yet  yearning 
heart :  "  Oh,  Ron,  Ron !  now  won't  you  go  to  her  ?  * 


334  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

There  are  so  many  sisters,  Heaven  be  thanked,  who  think 
as  Jane  did,  that  all  her  brother  had  to  do  was  ask  and  it 
should  be  given,  to  seek  and  he  should  find  his  heart's 
desire. 

It  was,  at  last  and  after  long  trial,  Jim  Hoyt's  graduat 
ing  June,  and  in  those  days  of  yore  they  used,  most  use 
lessly,  to  hold  the  class  in  cadet  uniform  and  much  impa 
tience  and  little  discipline  for  a  week  or  so  after  examina 
tions  were  over  and  the  standing  settled,  awaiting  final 
orders  from  Washington ;  and  so  it  happened  that,  in 
ample  time  to  see  "  last  parade  "  at  the  Point,  Ronald  Fane 
arrived  there  one  exquisite  evening  in  mid- June,  two  days 
only  after  he  had  said  adieu  to  the  blue  battalion  at  Grove- 
ton,  and  Furlong  met  him  at  the  south  dock  and 
drove  him,  bag  and  baggage,  to  his  bachelor  quarters  in 
the  angle.  "  Jimmy  Hoyt,"  said  he,  "  has  just  managed 
to  skin  through,  though  he's  swamped  in  demerit  and 
sixty-first  in  engineering — they  graduate  sixty-two. 
Another  month  of  it  would  have  been  the  death  of  the  old 
man.  He  looked  pretty  well  petered  out,  Fane;  so  does 
she." 

And  later  that  evening,  as  with  shrill,  soldier  melody 
the  drums  and  fifes  went  echoing  through  the  resounding 
sallyport,  signaling  their  martial  tattoo,  for  the  first  time 
since  the  wintry  day  at  Groveton,  nearly  eighteen  months 
before,  Ronald  Fane  looked  upon  the  face  that  had  lived 
day  and  night  in  his  dreams,  and  saw  that,  however  hap 
lessly  expressed,  Furlong's  descriptive  was  not  entirely 


EPILOGUE:   AT    THE    POINT  335 

unwarranted.  Ethel  Hoyt,  leading  and  half-supporting 
her  father,  came  slowly  up  the  pathway  from  the  west 
ward  hedge  where  they  had  been  bidding  "  Young  Hope 
ful  "  good-night.  With  apparently  no  more  pressing 
anxiety  on  earth  than  that  of  reporting  his  return  at  the 
cadet  guardhouse  before  the  last  roll  of  the  drums,  Mr. 
Jimmy  Hoyt,  with  a  dozen  other  light-heeled,  light-hearted 
young  warriors,  went  dancing  away  in  double  time  down 
the  road  to  the  barracks,  and,,  the  same  moonlight  that 
revealed  the  swift  flashing  white  trousers,  fading  gradu 
ally  in  the  dim  distance,  fell  upon  the  only  object  sought 
by  Ronald's  gaze — upon  those  wan,  yet  beautiful,  features 
close  at  hand,  upon  soft,  uplifted  eyes,  filled  with  troubled 
thought  and  care. 

A  great  personage  had  come  to  the  hotel  for  the  night. 
The  band  had  been  playing  in  his  honor.  The  halls,  par 
lors  and  piazzas  had  been  crowded  with  a  joyous  throng 
of  visitors  and  more  than  the  customary  sprinkling  of 
officers  and  cadets.  Graduating  exercises  were  to  be  held 
upon  the  morrow,  and  out  of  the  frying  pan  of  his  cadet 
career  Brother  Jim  was  to  jump  into  the  fire  of  subaltern 
life,  a  full-fledged  lieutenant  of  cavalry.  Ethel's  heart 
sank  at  the  mere  thought  of  it.  Hayden  had  told  her 
what  trooper  work  was  like  in  Arizona,  and  a  friend  at 
court  had  confided  to  her  that  Jim's  assignment  was  to  the 
very  regiment  in  which  that  other  had  so  nearly  ended  his 
days.  True,  the  old  regiment  was,  for  the  time  at  least, 
done  with  Arizona.  True,  "  Old  Catnip  "  was  still  at  its 


336  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

head  and  could  be  relied  upon,  said  their  informant,  to 
"  take  the  nonsense  out  of  Jimmy."  But  between  these 
two,  Fred  Hayden  and  James  DePeyster,  the  perils  of  the 
one,  the  errors,  escapades  and  extravagances  of  both, 
the  days  of  the  father  would  probably  not  be  too  long 
in  the  land  which  the  Lord  had  given  him,  while  those  of 
the  sister  had  been  burdened  with  a  weary  load.  And  yet 
she  loved  them,  as  women  will,  better  probably  than  that 
light  of  the  consular  and  diplomatic  service,  Andrew, 

• 

junior,  in  whose  care  finally  Hayden  had  been  launched 
as  sub-assistant  secretary  under  the  shield  of  the  United 
States  in  the  consulate  at  Coblentz.  In  the  year  or  more 
of  almost  unaided  looking  after  an  aging  and  much  broken 
father,  and  two  such  happy-go-lucky,  helpless  brothers, 
small  wonder  was  it  that  Ethel  Hoyt's  once  rounded  cheek 
had  thinned  and  paled,  and  that  there  had  been  but  little 
time  for  thought  of  others. 

Yet  thought  there  had  been,  and  sorrowful  thought,  and 
much  of  it.  The  girl  does  not  live  who  likes  it  in  a  man 
that  his  manner  should  abruptly  change  from  the  devo 
tional,  even  worshipful,  to  the  constrained  and  distant, 
albeit  at  her  suggestion,  and  when  such  suggestion  grew 
from  the  circumstance  of  Ethel  Hoyt's  relations  with  the 
Co-Educational,  and  those  relations  had  abruptly  and 
finally  terminated,  there  was  no  reason,  that  she  could  see, 
why  constraint  and  distance  should  not  also  end.  But 
instead  had  come  that  letter,  almost  formal — how  was  she 
to  know  of  that  other  letter,  long,  grateful,  glowing,  that 


EPILOGUE:   AT   THE    POINT  337 

told  so  much  that  she,  being  a  woman,  would  have  loved 
to  hear — that  letter  that  his  cooler  judgment  and  his  sense 
of  duty  told  him  he  had  no  right  to  send  ?  Locked  in  his 
heart,  and  an  inner  drawer  of  his  old  desk,  that  letter  still 
lay  hidden.  Pride,  foolish  pride,  added  still  another  bolt 
and  bar  when  later  he  heard  of  her  bettered  fortune.  On 
that  head  he  need  have  had  no  least  compunction — there 
was  barely  enough  to  keep  them  from  worrying. 

And  so  for  nearly  eighteen  months  Ethel  Hoyt  had 
been  schooling  herself  to  consider  Ronald  Fane  as  a  mem 
ory,  even  while  her  heart  rebelled  that  he  should  so  readily 
accept  the  assignment.  She  was  thinking  of  him  as  she 
turned  from  the  gateway  to  her  father's  aid,  for  Jim's 
last  joyous  word  was  a  wish  that  he  might  be  in  the  same 
troop  with  Captain  Fane.  She  was  thinking  of  him  even 
as  she  strove  cheerily  to  reassure  her  father,  who  looked 
upon  the  Indian  frontier  as  something  little  short  of  the 
Inferno,  and  Jimmy's  chances  of  extinction  as  already  set 
tled.  She  was  thinking  of  him  even  as  she  reached  the 
steps  and  recalled  the  glorious  rides  that  began  and  ended 
there.  She  was  thinking  of  him  and  how,  almost  rever 
ently,  he  had  lifted  her  from  saddle  and  stood  her  on  that 
lower  step — where  now  he  stood  in  person,  and  civilian 
dress,  smiling  and  with  extended  hands.  She  ceased  to 
think,  for  everything  seemed  dizzily  reeling  round,  in  the 
midst  of  which,  with  sure  foot  and  one  firm  hand,  at  least, 
he  was  supporting  the  father  up  the  stair.  It  enabled  her 
to  fall  behind  and  regain  her  breath,  composure  and  ideas. 


338  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

She  was  herself  again  when  they  saw  that  father  safely 
seated  and  in  converse  with  a  former  crony  of  the 
"  Street."  She  was  therefore,  in  spite  of  being  herself, 
far  from  being  the  Ethel  he  hoped  to  see.  She  was  again 
Miss  Hoyt. 

Nevertheless,  Ronald  Fane  had  come  for  a  purpose  and 
with  resolute  mind.  She  felt  it,  knew  it,  when  he  offered 
his  arm  and  led  her  to  the  north  piazza  and  that  glorious 
outlook  over  the  northward  reach  of  the  Hudson — led 
her  to  the  very  spot  where  they  had  stood  that  night  in 
June  three  years  before.  Many  people  were  seated  along 
the  west  and  southward  front,  but  few  were  here,  and 
these  few  were  paired  and  absorbed,  as  well  they  might 
be.  She  was  trembling  a  bit,  for  there  had  been  no  warn 
ing  of  his  coming,  and  she  who  had  long  months  before 
resented  his  silence,  now,  womanlike,  was  maneuvering 
to  check  his  words.  She  who  had  quit  Groveton  and  the 
"  Co-Educational  "  indignant  and  affronted,  stood  plying 
him  with  questions  as  to  all  manner  of  people  for  whom 
she  could  feel  but  faint  appreciation.  How  was  Dr.  Par 
sons  and  good  Mrs.  Parscns  ?  and  oh,  how  was  Miss  Hin- 
ton,  and  had  Miss  Hinton  ever  forgiven  her  for  the  man 
of  straw  that  dangled  at  Miss  Hinton's  casement?  Inno 
cent  as  was  Miss  Hoyt  of  all  complicity  in  that  exploit, 
she  had  not  escaped  suspicion  in  Miss  Hinton's  austere 
mind.  At  least  the  perpetrators  were  none  other  than 
Miss  Hoyt's  own  pupils.  There  was  no  denying  that. 
Neither  was  there  way  of  proving.  Finally  Miss  Hoyt 


EPILOGUE:   AT    THE    POINT  339 

wanted  to  know  all  about  Mrs.  Tremaine,  and  the  hand 
some  rector,  and  Miss  Fane.  Was  Miss  Fane  still  at  Mrs. 
Jamieson's?  No,  Miss  Fane  was  living  at  the  Rectory 
now.  Oh,  how  very  much  better  that  was!  Yes,  very 
much,  said  Fane,  yet  only  temporary.  Indeed!  Were 
they  planning  to  keep  house  now — Captain  Fane  and  his 
devoted  sister?  She  certainly  was  devotion  itself.  The 
devotion  was  duly  conceded,  also  that  Jane  was  contem 
plating  housekeeping,  and  there  was  indeed  prospect  of 
his  being  included  in  the  very  charming  arrangement,  as 
Colonel  West  had  been  so  kind  as  to  suggest  his  coming 
to  live  with  them,  and  then,  of  course,  Miss  Hoyt  was  all 
felicitation  for  the  colonel  and  for  Jane.  It  was  an  ideal 
match!  They  were  people  of  such  strong  and  marked 
character, — so  admirably  suited  to  each  other,  etc.,  and 
all  the  time  Miss  Hoyt  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he 
saw,  perfectly  well,  through  her  girlish  artifice, — saw  and 
knew  she  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  she  was  saying, 
and  presently  the  soldier  in  him  spoke  in  spite  of  her,  and 
with  hands  that  trembled  even  as  did  her  own,  he  seized 
and  held  them  and  bent  toward  her,  as  she  leaned  against 
the  railing. 

"  Three  years  ago,  here,  on  this  very  spot,  I  tried  to  tell 
you  what  I've  come  to  tell  you  now.  No,  Ethel,  you  must 
listen  to  me !  "  he  pleaded,  for  she  struggled  to  free  her 
hand  and  check  him.  "  But  everything  seemed  to  inter 
pose.  You  went  one  way,  I  another ;  and  when  we  met 
at  Groveton  you  know  that  duty  alone — duty  to  the  mother 


340  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

and  sisters  dependent  on  me — kept  me  silent.  Last  week 
— ah,  listen,  Ethel,  Jane  looked  into  my  face  as  she  told 
me  her  happiness  and " 

But  she  would  not  listen.  She  lifted  up  her  head,  the 
sweet,  pale  face  turning  full  upon  him,  earnest,  intent, 
resolved,  and,  though  her  voice  was  low,  it  was  firm  and 
strong. 

"  You  knew  your  duty,  Captain  Fane,  and  I  have  mine. 
I  will  not  hear  another  word." 

And  so  she  left  him ;  and  yet,  in  all  the  light  and  glam 
our  and  gladness  about  her,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  mirth 
and  music  and  rejoicing  after  graduating  parade  and  at 
the  graduating  ball,  her  deep  eyes  sought  him  on  every 
hand  as  the  hours  sped  by  and  he  never  appeared.  It  was 
Brother  Jim  who  broke  the  spell.  All  excitement  and 
importance  he  came  fairly  sliding  to  her  side.  "  Great 
news,  Ethel !  I'm  assigned  to  the  — th,  Fane's  regiment. 
The  whole  Sioux  Nation  are  out !  Crook's  called  for  help ! 
Every  mother's  son  of  us  is  needed!  Fane  started  at 
noon !  "  Then  duty  had  summoned  him  again. 

A  woeful  summer  was  that  that  followed.  Even  as  the 
joyous  class  was  ringing  its  parting  cheer  from  the 
crowded  deck  of  the  day  boat,  and  all  the  rocky  heights 
about  the  Point  were  alive  with  the  flutter  of  kerchief  and 
the  frantic  waving  of  hats  and  helmets,  caps  and  class 
banners,  away  out  among  the  foothills  of  the  wildly  beau 
tiful  Big  Horn,  along  other  bold  and  wooded  heights,  in 
countless  hordes  the  red  warriors  were  swarming  in  hate 


EPILOGUE:   AT   THE    POINT  341 

and  fire  on  the  battling  lines  of  Crook.  Another  week 
and  in  even  greater  force  and  fury  they  had  engulfed  the 
fated  squadrons  of  Custer,  leaving  not  a  soldier  soul  to 
tell  the  tale.  And  then  while,  all  rejoicing,  the  nation  was 
flocking  to  Philadelphia  and  the  first  great  exposition  in 
our  land,  the  stubborn  bands  of  Sitting  Bull  and  their  kin 
dred  warriors,  Sioux  and  Cheyenne,  led  on  from  one  wild 
range  to  another,  luring  the  pursuing  columns  farther  and 
farther  away  from  camp  and  supplies,  rarely  facing  them 
in  fair  fight,  but  ever  enticing,  to  the  end  that,  after  long 
weeks  of  marching  and  scouting  through  blistering  heat 
or  pitiless  rain,  through  storm  and  tempest,  hail  and  prai 
rie  fire,  through  ashen  "  bad  lands  "  where  even  sage  and 
greasewood  could  not  grow,  where  the  turbid  streams 
were  thick  with  mud  and  alkali,  where  game  was  scarce 
and  grass  was  gone — burned  skillfully  away — where  wag 
ons  could  not  follow  and  pack  mules  mired  in  quicksand, 
without  shelter  of  any  kind  and  presently  without  rations, 
their  scanty  clothing  in  rags,  their  boots  worn  to  shreds, 
gaunt  and  famished,  officers  and  men  faring  and  sharing 
alike,  the  so-called  "  dapper  dandies  "  of  the  old  regiment 
fell  upon  their  starving  horses,  when  even  prairie  dogs 
could  not  be  found,  and  ate  the  luckless  beasts  that  for 
days  had  been  too  weak  to  bear  a  rider's  weight.  "  Take 
the  nonsense  out  of  Brother  Jim,"  indeed!  There  were 
long  weeks  in  which  no  word  whatever  came  from  the 
column,  and  mothers  and  wives,  sisters  and  sweethearts 
in  distant  homes  watched  and  prayed  and  shuddered, 


312  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

thinking  over  the  awful  fate  of  Ouster's  men  and  dreading 
with  each  new-coming  day  to  hear  the  same  of  Crook's. 
In  late  June  the  regiment  had  passed  through  Denver, 
northward  bound.  In  July  it  had  struck  the  Cheyennes 
on  the  War  Bonnet  and  chased  them  to  the  agency.  In 
early  August  it  was  at  the  Big  Horn ;  in  late  August  on 
the  Yellowstone,  and  then  it  dove  into  the  wilderness  to 
be  heard  of  again  at  last  in  the  Black  Hills,  after  stirring, 
spirited  battles  with  Crazy  Horse  and  his  bands — 
drenched,  dripping,  haggard  and  well-nigh  unrecogniz 
able,  yet  tough  and  hardy  in  spite  of  all,  and  finally  in 
the  bleak  November  came  Jimmy's  exultant  missive  from 
old  Red  Cloud  Agency :  "  Disarmed  the  Sioux  to-day. 
Home  on  leave  Thanksgiving,"  and  nothing  would  do  but 
that  the  sub-assistant  secretary  of  the  Consulate  at  Cob- 
lentz  should  also  get  leave  and  come  across  the  Atlantic 
that  the  father  might  have  his  two  boys  with  him  at  least 
once  more.  Despite  the  Indian  experience  of  Arizona, 
Hayden  Hoyt  could  only  with  difficulty  be  held  at  his  post. 
He  was  simply  wild  to  be  once  more  with  the  old  regiment, 
even  as  a  private,  and  mad  with  envy  of  Jim,  actually  an 
officer  in  his  old  troop. 

But  if  Ronald  Fane  had  been  the  hero  of  one  boy's  talk 
before,  what  was  he  now  with  both  lads  home — Jim  still 
gaunt  as  a  greyhound,  and  as  hungry,  but  idolatrous  as  a 
spaniel?  Oh,  Crook  was  all  right.  Crook  was  great. 
So  was  Atherton — so  was  old  Stannard,  their  major.  And 
there  were  rattling  good  soldiers  in  that  little  cavalry  brig- 


•. 

V»4 


EPILOGUE :   AT    THE    POINT  343 

ade  and  the  wonderful  command  of  infantry  that,  "  hoof 
ing  it "  from  start  to  finish,  used  to  outmarch  them  day 
after  day  on  empty  stomachs,  because  they  had  no  horses 
to  tow  along.  But  Jim  Hoyt  had  just  one  hero  and  idol, 
his  troop  commander  Fane,  and  Ethel,  who  had  had  to 
listen  to  Hayden's  panegyrics  all  the  winter  months  that 
followed  their  eastward  flitting  from  Groveton,  had  now 
to  hear  both  lads,  from  Thanksgiving  until  after  Christ 
mas,  when  each  was  summoned  back  to  his  station,  and 
she  was  once  again  alone  in  her  vigil  with  her  father  and 
mother — the  latter  but  recently  restored  to  them  from 
long  illness — alone  with  them  and  her  thoughts  of  the 
lover  whose  suit  she  had  utterly  refused  to  hear. 

And  then  there  came  a  time,  late  the  following  spring, 
when  again  the  boys  sought  leave,  Jim  hastening  home 
ward  from  Nebraska  in  answer  to  telegraphic  summons 
from  that  "  friend  at  court " — and  the  War  Department. 
It  was  not  unexpected.  Ethel's  letters  had  been  prepar 
ing  him  for  the  inevitable,  and  yet  when  it  came  it  was 
all  so  mercifully  swift  and  sudden,  so  peaceful  and  so 
serene. 

They  took  them  to  the  seashore  for  a  while  after  the 
loved  old  father  had  been  laid  away,  the  mother  mourning 
as  ever,  and  as  ever  leaving  to  Ethel  all  matters  of  man 
agement  and  business.  Then  Jim  had  to  hurry  to  his 
troop,  for  once  again  the  regiment  was  afield  and  Indian 
chasing  all  summer  long.  Then  "  the  diplomatic  corps  " 
persuaded  the  family,  and  with  little  difficulty,  that  mother 


344  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

would  be  happier  with  her  boys  in  the  foreign  life  she 
loved  and  lived  so  long.  To  them,  therefore,  and  to  the 
Rhineland  she  voyaged  before  the  harvest  moon  had 
waned,  leaving  Ethel  visiting  with  old  family  friends  until 
all  the  business  details  could  be  settled.  "  Ethel  would 
follow  later,"  though  Jim  had  his  own  ideas  about  that. 
Then  again  came  the  chill  autumn  days  on  the  wide  moun 
tain  waves  of  Wyoming, — the  dreamy,  delightful  Indian 
summer  in  the  Hudson  Highlands,  and  one  soft,  hazy 
afternoon  a  fair-faced  girl,  still  wan  and  sad  and  in  deep 
mourning,  stood  leaning  against  the  railing  of  the  old 
north  piazza,  gazing  silently  over  that  incomparable  vista 
of  earth  and  flood  and  sky.  Two  big  tears  seemed  brim 
ming  in  her  soft  eyes.  Someone,  who  had  come  search 
ing  through  the  deserted  hallway,  faltered  at  the  door, 
irresolute,  unwilling  to  intrude,  yet,  eager  and  rejoicing 
— a  woman  burdened  with  a  blissful  duty — and  a  letter. 
At  last,  almost  on  tiptoe,  she  approached,  and  the  girl 
started,  turned  and  smiled  upon  her  as  she  came. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  Ethel." 

"Forme,  Mrs.  Hazlett?" 

"  For  you,  and  for  no  one  else,"  was  the  answer,  and  the 
bearer  vanished,  leaving  the  bulky  little  packet  in  hands 
that  suddenly  grew  tremulous. 

"  I  am  sending  you  the  letter,  [were  the  first  words  that  met 
her  eyes  as  she  opened  the  outer  envelope]  written  nearly  three 
years  ago  when,  to  save  me,  you  would  have  accused  your  brother. 
Last  year  when  I  tried  to  speak  you  would  not  hear  me,  Ethel. 


EPILOGUE:    AT    THE    POINT  345 

Now  will  you  read  ?  I  go  again  to  Groveton  to  take  up  the  work 
I  left  when  needed  in  the  field.  Read,  and  tell  me  may  I  come 
first  to  you." 

She  did  not  know  he  was  even  then  so  near,  nor  had  he 
told  her.  What  was  more  natural,  when  he  heard  of 
Hazlett's  detail  at  the  Point,  than  that  he  should  follow 
on  to  see  them,  his  ever  devoted  friends  ?  A  summer  of 
splendid,  vigorous  life  had  the  regiment  enjoyed,  a  sum 
mer  of  scouting  through  the  grandest  country  in  all 
America,  a  summer  of  radiant  sunshine  and  mountain  air, 
a  country  rich  in  scenic  beauty,  with  white-capped  peak 
and  wooden  range  and  green  rolling  foothill  and  flashing, 
foam-crested  torrent  on  every  side,  and  when  the  early 
snow  clouds  settled  down  upon  the  cliffs  and  the  white, 
filmy  veil  came  sifting  slowly  earthward,  blanketing  the 
game  trails  and  the  upland  prairies,  the  recall  sounded  at 
the  distant  outposts,  and  by  easy  stages  the  regiment  came 
riding  jauntily  homeward  from  beneath  the  morning 
shadows  of  Cloud  Peak,  across  the  swirling  Big  Horn, 
rounding  the  base  of  Heart  Mountain,  dipping  again  and 
again  in  the  deep  ravines  that  seamed  the  eastward  slope 
of  the  Shoshone  Range — the  valleys  of  the  Meeyero, 
Meeteesee  and  Gray  Bull,  still  home  of  the  elk  and  the 
buffalo.  Then,  over  the  huge  barrier  of  the  Owl  Creek 
Mountains  and  into  the  broad  lands  of  the  Wind  River, 
with  the  grand  triplet  sentinels  of  the  Tetons  standing 
guard  at  the  west,  and  the  peaks  of  Fremont  glistening 
against  the  southern  skies;  and  then  the  long,  winding 


546  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

way  through  the  sheep  herders'  paradise,  and  the  clamber 
over  the  green  bulwark  to  the  Sweetwater  beyond,  and 
thence,  through  Devil's  Gate,  to  rejoice  again  at  sight  of 
the  dear  old  Platte,  frisking  northward  to  meet  them,  and 
then  obligingly  turning  away  southeastward  to  be  escort 
and  companion  through  days  of  brisk,  exhilarating  ride, 
through  starry  nights  of  song  and  slumber,  on  past  Fet- 
terman  Heights,  past  La  Prele,  La  Bonte  and  on  to  hos 
pitable  old  Laramie,  and  here  "  the  Chief  "  summoned 
Fane  to  headquarters  and  bade  him  push  ahead  to  Chey 
enne  and  Chicago,  with  dispatches  for  the  division  com 
mander  and  a  four  weeks'  leave  for  himself.  Many  a 
letter  had  met  them  at  Laramie,  and  Jimmy  Hoyt  had 
come  to  tell  him  of  Hazlett's  orders  to  the  Military  Acad 
emy — of  Mrs.  Hazlett's  September  with  Ethel  at  'Scon- 
set,  of  Ethel's  being  with  the  Hazletts  even  now.  What 
more  natural,  indeed,  than  that  Fane  should  wish  to  see 
these  old  and  tried  and  trusted  friends  before  once  again 
reporting  for  duty  to  the  selfsame,  yet  very  differently 
greeting,  President  at  Groveton?  Long  enough  he 
stopped  at  his  quarters  for  that  letter  and  for  needed  rai 
ment  in  which  to  return  to  civil  life  and  civilization. 
Then,  within  another  day,  he  was  speeding  after  it.  Ethel 
Hoyt  had  barely  time  to  read  it — thrice,  to  dream  over  it 
at  all,  or  even  whisper  that  her  heart  said  "  Come,"  when, 
sun  tanned,  vigorous,  brimful  of  the  ozone  and  energy  of 
the  wide  frontier,  just  where  they  had  parted  in  the  old 
north  piazza  just  the  year  agone,  he  stood  before  her  and 


EPILOGUE:   AT    THE    POINT  347 

read  surrender  in  her  soft,  yet  shining,  and  at  last  up 
lifted  eyes. 

There  was  a  house  warming  when  the  Hazletts  moved 
from  the  hotel  into  the  new  quarters,  and  a  welcoming 
"  hop "  at  the  officers'  club,  and  full  uniform  was  the 
order  of  the  evening.  There  were  insignia  of  famous 
military  societies  on  the  uniform  of  many  a  senior  among 
the  officers  present — the  Loyal  Legion,  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  "  Sheridan's  Cavalry  "  and  the  like  shone  re 
splendent  under  the  globe  lights,  but,  between  the  double 
row  of  cavalry  buttons  on  the  breast  of  Ronald  Fane  hung 
a  medal  in  dull  bronze,  surmounted,  in  miniature,  by  the 
national  flag.  There  was  none  to  match  it  in  the  crowded 
room,  though  it  came  to  others  later,  and  though  there 
were  others  there  that  had  well  deserved,  yet  never  re 
ceived  it. 

"Where's  your  medal?"  Hazlett  had  bluntly  asked 
when  Fane  came  down  from  his  room. 

"  I  said  I  shouldn't  wear  it,"  answered  Fane. 

"  I  said  he  should,"  quietly  remarked  a  young  lady 
whose  half  mourning  was  to  keep  her  from  the  dance  at 
which  Fane  must  needs  appear,  though  it  seems  he  did 
not  long  to  remain. 

"  Then — somebody'll  have  to  pin  it  on,"  said  the  owner. 

"  It  takes  a  woman  to  do  that,"  quoth  Hazlett.  "  Per 
haps  I'd  better  call — my  wife,"  whereat  he  vanished,  grin 
ning,  and  Fane  stepped  forward,  the  priceless  trifle  in  his 
hand. 


348  THE    MEDAL    OF    HONOR 

She  stood  beneath  the  flag-draped  archway  to  the  dark 
dining  room  beyond,  the  firelight  from  the  open  hearth, 
the  soft  gleam  from  the  chandelier  and  sconces,  falling 
full  upon  her  sweet  face,  from  which  the  pallor  and  the 
sorrow  had  vanished  almost  in  a  night.  There  was  even 
a  faint  flush  upon  the  cheeks.  There  was  radiance  in  the 
quick,  upward  glance  as  gently  he  drew  her  forward  to 
the  fireside,  then,  smiling,  "  stood  attention." 

"  It's  the  way  Dolan  and  I  had  to  stand  first  time  it  was 
ever  pinned  on,"  said  he,  "  and  I've  never  worn  it  since." 

So,  facing  him,  she  leaned  her  white  hands  on  his  breast, 
his  deep  eyes  glowing  upon  her  as,  trembling  just  a  little 
bit,  the  slender  fingers  drove  the  stout  pin  through  the 
blue  and  snapped  it  in  its  seat.  Then,  daintily,  they 
smoothed  and  patted  the  soft  ribbon;  then,  slowly,  they 
would  have  come  away  when,  suddenly,  his  arms  were 
about  her,  holding  her  close  and  strong,  the  blessed  trophy 
of  his  soldier  valor  almost  crushed  into  the  soft  fabric  that 
fluttered  above  her  heart.  Even  then,  not  satisfied,  sud 
denly  again  he  loosed  his  hold ;  masterfully  he  seized  the 
soft,  white  hands ;  lifted  them  over  the  glittering  shoulder- 
knots  until  they  had  to  clasp  about  his  neck;  then  once 
again  his  arms  enfolded  and  held  her,  and  his  lips,  scorn 
ing  faint  struggle  and  denial,  sought  and  found  hers  and 
claimed  their  own  before  he  murmured : 

"  I  know  what  my  medal's  worth — at  last." 

THE    END 


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